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SEVEN 


STORMY    SUNDAYS. 


a  The  sun  shall  be  no  more  thy  light  by  day ;  neither  for  brightness  shall 
the  moon  give  light  unto  thee  ;  but  the  Lord  shall  be  thine  everlasting  light, 
and  thy  God,  thy  glory."  —  Isaiah  lx.  19. 


THIRD     EDITION. 
^>V    0"  THE 


:vb.-rsit 


BOSTON: 
AMERICAN    UNITARIAN    ASSOCIATION; 

WALKER,   FULLER,   AND    COMPANY. 
NEW    YORK:  JAMES    MILLER. 

1866. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1858,  by 
THE   AMERICAN   UNITARIAN   ASSOCIATION, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press,  Cambridge : 
Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  and  Company. 


i 


<T~ 


NOTE. 


I  have  to  thank  two  of  my  friends  for  the  use 
of  two  sermons  which  I  have  heard  them  preach, 
and  which  would  not  be  otherwise  published.  I 
must  express  my  acknowledgments,  too,  for  two 
sermons  by  Rev.  W.  B.  0.  Peabody,  never  before 
printed.  I  believe  the  sermons  of  Tholuck  and 
Bretschneider  have  not  been  translated  before. 


CONTENTS. 


A  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

PAGK 
THE   RHODODENDRONS 1 


THE  SECOND  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

THE  SURE  WALL 49 

THE  THIRD  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

THE  DAILY  BREAD 99 

THE  FOURTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

FORGIVENESS .145 

THE  FIFTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

THE  CHILDREN 189 

THE   SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

THE  BIBLE 241 

THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 
pain .327 


A  STORMY   SUNDAY 

THE  RHODODENDRONS. 


"  Praise  God,  for  wondering  eyes  his  world  of  love  to  see ! 
Praise  God,  for  thought  which  wanders  always  free ! 
Praise  God,  for  faith,  which  bends  a  willing  knee, 
Draws  me  to  him,  the  while  he  smiles  on  me." 


A  STORMY  SUNDAY 


THE  RHODODENDRONS. 


"  What  went  ye  out  into  the  wilderness  to  see  ?  A  reed  shaken  with  the 
wind  ?  But  what  went  ye  out  for  to  see  ?  A  prophet  ?  Yea,  I  say  unto  you, 
and  more  than  a  prophet." 


What  went  ye  out  to  see 

O'er  the  rude  sandy  lea, 
Where  stately  Jordan  flows  by  many  a  palm, 

Or  where  Gennesaret's  wave 

Delights  the  flowers  to  lave 
That  o'er  her  western  slope  breathe  airs  of  balm  ? 

All  through  the  summer  night 

Those  blossoms  red  and  bright 
Spread  their  soft  breasts,  unheeding,  to  the  breeze, 

Like  hermits  watching  still 

Around  the  sacred  hill, 
Where  erst  our  Saviour  watched  upon  his  knees. 

The  Paschal  moon  above 
Seems  like  a  saint  to  rove, 
Left  shining  in  the  world  with  Christ  alone ; 


I 


A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

Below,  the  lake's  still  face 
Sleeps  sweetly  in  the  embrace 
Of  mountains  terraced  high  with  mossy  stone. 

Here  may  we  sit  and  dream 

Over  the  heavenly  theme, 
Till  to  our  soul  the  former  days  return ; 

Till  on  the  grassy  bed, 

Where  thousands  once  he  fed, 
The  world's  incarnate  Maker  we  discern. 

O  cross  no  more  the  main, 

Wandering  so  wild  and  vain, 
To  count  the  reeds  that  tremble  in  the  wind, 

On  listless  dalliance  bound, 

Like  children  gazing  round, 
Who  on  God's  works  no  seal  of  Godhead  find. 

Bask  not  in  courtly  bower, 

Or  sun-bright  hall  of  power ; 
Pass  Babel  quick,  and  seek  the  Holy  Land : 

From  robes  of  Tyrian  dye 

Turn  with  undazzled  eye 
To  Bethlehem's  glade  or  Carmel's  haunted  strand. 

Or  choose  thee  out  a  cell 

In  Kedron's  storied  dell, 
Beside  the  springs  of  Love,  that  never  die ; 

Among  the  olives  kneel, 

The  chill  night-blast  to  feel, 
And  watch  the  moon  that  saw  thy  Master's  agony. 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  5 

Then  rise  at  dawn  of  day, 

And  wind  thy  thoughtful  way, 
Where  rested  once  the  temple's  stately  shade, 

With  due  feet  tracing  round 

The  city's  northern  bound, 
To  th'  other  holy  garden,  where  the  Lord  was  laid. 

Who  thus  alternate  see 

His  death  and  victory, 
Rising  and  falling  as  on  angel  wings, 

They,  while  they  seem  to  roam, 

Draw  daily  nearer  home,  — 
Their  heart  untravelled  still  adores  the  King  of  kings. 

Or,  if  at  home  they  stay, 

Yet  are  they,  day  by  day, 
In  spirit  journeying  through  the  glorious  land, 

Not  for  light  Fancy's  reed, 

Nor  Honor's  purple  meed, 
Nor  gifted  prophet's  lore,  nor  Science'  wondrous  wand. 

But  more  than  prophet,  more 

Than  angels  can  adore 
With  face  unveiled,  is  He  they  go  to  seek ; 

Blessed  be  God,  whose  grace 

Shows  Him  in  every  place 
To  homeliest  hearts  of  pilgrims  pure  and  meek, 

These  last  words,  taken  from  Keble's  lesson  for 
the  day,  I  must  repeat  to  myself,  as  my  lesson. 
It  is  a  stormy  Sunday,  and  I  must  not  venture 


6  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

out  to  church.  I  cannot  enter  into  the  blessing 
that  is  promised  to  the  two  or  three  that  are 
gathered  together.  I  must  devote  myself  to  a 
solitary  worship,  and  these  lines  may  help  to  pre- 
pare me  for  it.  What  a  contrast  are  the  scenes 
that  they  picture  to  the  scene  that  shuts  me  in  ! 
A  cold  rain  patters  against  the  window-panes,  and 
a  sharp  blast  of  wind  hurries  over  the  hills.  How 
different  the  cold  New  England  landscape  from 
that  spot 

"  Where  stately  Jordan  flows  by  many  a  palm, 
Or  where  Gennesaret's  wave 
Delights  the  flowers  to  lave 
That  o'er  her  western  slope  breathe  airs  of  balm  "  J 

I  look  out  upon  broad,  brown  hills,  out  of 
which  the  summer  green  has  died  away,  and  the 
cold  mist-clouds  shut  up  all  warmth  from  the 
sky. 

"  The  blossoms  red  and  bright "  in  these  lines 
allude  to  the  rhododendrons,  which,  they  say,  cov- 
er the  water's  edge  of  the  Lake  of  Gennesaret. 
And  the  word  rhododendron  brings  back  to  me 
our  own  summer  season,  the  gay  flowers  that 
adorn  its  quiet  nooks,  and  with  them  those  that 
light  up  the  wayside.  I  forget  a  moment  my  win- 
ter-imprisoning room,  and  feel  again  the  breath 
of  summer -air,  and  see  again  the  summer  rhodo- 
dendrons, the  rare  flowers  that  came  from  their 
hidden  homes.     Not  only  has  this  picture  carried 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  7 

me  to  the  side  of  the  river  Jordan,  to  the  Holy 
Land,  but  back  again  to  my  own  home  in  the 
summer-time. 

And  if  my  thoughts  have  power  to  paint  around 
me  new  scenery,  they  may  have  force  to  bring 
into  my  silent  room  the  memory  and  help  of 
friends  to  commune  with  me  in  my  solitary  hour. 
I  must  collect  around  me  the  writings  of  spiritual 
men  and  women,  who  from  their  written  words 
can  preach  to  me  and  lead  me  to  prayer.  With 
their  help  I  may  summon  to  my  presence  the 
presence  of  Him  who  is  ever  with  us,  and  yet 
whom  we  seldom  know  how  to  approach  fitly. 
He  to  whom  this  day  is  consecrated  will  draw 
near  to  me  in  my  solitude,  and  help  me  to  make 
it  sacred  to  Him. 

To-day  I  have  no  active  duties  to  perform.  I 
am  shut  out  from  visiting  the  poor  or  the  friend- 
less. George  has  left  for  church,  and  will  be 
gone  all  day.  I  am  alone  in  the  house,  and  am 
not  even  called  upon  for  the  gift  of  a  kind  word. 
I  am  not  even  obliged  to  appear  kind  and  gen- 
tle. If  I  have  any  evil  thoughts,  there  is  no  one 
here  for  me  to  express  them  to.  I  have  even  no 
household  duties  to  perform.  The  only  duty 
that  remains  to  me  is  to  take  care  of  myself,  to 
watch  over  my  own  thoughts.  I  have  come  to 
one  of  the  quiet  places  in  the  activity  of  life.  A 
busy  week  lies  before  me,  and  now  I  am  allowed 


8  A  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

a  few  hours  of  concentration  to  prepare  myself 
for  it.  The  outer  warfare  of  life  has  ceased  for 
a  while  ;  there  is  a  short  truce  ;  I  may  look  back 
upon  the  battle-field,  and  bury  my  dead.  I  may 
summon  up  my  army,  and  fit  the  survivors  for 
the  renewed  contest.  Yes,  there  are  dead  reso- 
lutions to  weep  over,  new  hopes  to  encourage. 

What,  indeed,  are  the  duties  of  such  an  hour  ? 
and  what  are  its  dangers  ? 

There  is  danger  that  on  such  a  day  I  may  con- 
centrate into  a  few  hours  all  that  "  conviction  of 
sin  "  that  should  serve  to  restrain  me  through 
the  duties  of  the  week.  Standing  alone  in  the 
presence  of  my  own  conscience,  I  may  bow  my- 
self so  heavily  with  compunction,  that  I  shall  find 
a  reaction  in  the  busy  days  that  are  to  follow. 
"What  matter  is  it,  that  I  do  weep  over  the  mis- 
deeds of  the  last  week,  reproach  the  idle  thoughts, 
and  bring  my  soul  down  on  its  knees  to-day  in 
these  quiet  hours,  —  how  will  all  this  help  me,  if 
with  to-morrow's  distractions  there  returns  again 
the  old  indolence,  if  the  idle  thoughts  come  back 
again,  and  the  heartlessness,  and  the  sharp  words 
ready  to  wound  others  ?  Now,  in  the  presence  of 
myself  alone  and  God,  I  am  willing  to  confess  all 
these  evil  tendencies  of  my  soul ;  but  will  not  the 
old  vanity  return  to-morrow  ?  When  I  am  in 
the  presence  of  others,  I  shall  forget  my  own  lit- 
tleness,  and  wish  to   appear  greater  than  my 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  9 

stature.  To-day,  when  I  am  alone,  I  can  think 
with  kindness  of  others,  can  even  pityingly  and 
shrinkingly  draw  a  veil  over  their  faults ;  I  can 
forget  how  it  is  that  these  faults  clash  with  mine, 
and  find  for  them  the  excuses  that  I  am  so  ready 
to  spread  over  my  own.  But  to-morrow  the  old 
selfishness  will  return ;  I  shall  give  back  an  an- 
gry word  for  a  supposed  insinuation,  wound  a 
sensitive  heart  with  a  thoughtless  act,  neglect  to 
bring  the  cup  of  cold  water  to  the  suffering,  fall 
down  quietly  into  the  current  of  my  own  daily 
duties,  not  looking  to  either  shore,  to  give  or 
gather  help  !  These  words  I  write  are  a  confes- 
sion of  that  weakness  that  will  again  paralyze  me 
to-morrow.  I  wish  that  I  might  preserve  some 
Of  this  humility  when  I  come  out  from  this  silent 
chapel  of  to-day. 

This  must  be  the  sin  of  those  who  live  in  con- 
vents, who  pour  out  their  souls  in  repentance 
in  their  quiet  cloisters,  and  then  have  no  oppor- 
tunity to  prove  its  healthiness  by  the  good  works 
that  follow.  This  is  the  reason  that  the  worship 
in  the  church  should  be  more  availing  than  the 
lonely  worship  at  home.  There  we  kneel  side 
by  side  with  others,  and  however  in  our  solemn 
thoughts  we  strive  to  shut  out  all  that  is  dis- 
tracting, still  we  are  conscious  that  others  are 
kneeling  by  our  side  in  spirit,  or  perhaps,  like 
us,  waiting  for  the  entrance  of  the  spirit  of  de- 


10  A   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

votion  into  the  soul.  New  ditties  are  suggested 
to  us  by  the  sight  of  others.  In  praying  for  our 
own  needs,  we  think  of  the  needs  of  those  around 
us.  The  congregation  is  preaching  to  us  ;  some 
speak  from  their  want,  some  from  their  excess. 
Our  solitary  longing  we  see  reflected  in  others ; 
we  are  led  to  resolve,  not  merely  to  work  out  our 
own  salvation,  but,  in  the  working  week  that  is 
to  come,  to  help  to  bear  the  burdens  of  others. 

Then  the  words  of  the  preacher  waken  us  to 
the  sight  of  some  forgotten  sin.  We  are  not,  as 
at  home,  reading  some  selected  sermon,  that  may 
preach  to  us  some  favorite  duty,  but  in  the 
church  a  man  rises  who  may  suddenly  rouse  us 
to  a  new  and  unthought  of  field  of  action,  that 
before  never  had  the  power  to  charm  us,  but 
which  we  now  see  truly  demands  us. 

But  in  that  church  I  am  not.  Neither  audi- 
ence nor  minister  preaches  to  me.  No  sermon 
against  vanity  comes  from  nodding  plume  or 
shining  velvet, — no  quickening  to  charity  from 
the  sight  of  the  poor,  worn  garment.  I  hear  no 
freshly  spoken  word  of  preacher  to  start  me 
from  my  indolence.  With  the  temptation  to 
distraction  and  the  desire  to  criticise  others,  I 
lose,  too,  the  influence  that  comes  from  the  unit- 
ing of  many  in  one  great  worship,  I  lose  the 
wakening  inspiration  from  the  sound  of  another's 
voice.     I  can  read  printed  sermons,  the  choicest 


THE   RHODODENDRONS.  11 

that  ever  were  written,  but  my  eye  may  wander 
heedlessly  over  the  page :  it  is  harder  to  slmt  out 
from  the  mind  the  spoken  word.  In  the  church, 
the  tones  of  an  earnest  preacher  rouse  even  a 
slumbering  spirit.  All  alone  here  perhaps  I  may 
let  my  soul  sleep.  Instead  of  conviction  of  sin, 
I  may  sink  into  complacency. 

For  a  different  danger  of  this  solitary  worship 
is,  that  I  may  grow  too  satisfied  with  myself. 
Without  a  rousing  word  from  without  me,  I  may 
even  flatter  myself  on  my. own  humility  !  This 
bending  towards  God,  this  consciousness  of  my 
penitence,  of  my  momentary  freedom  from  sin, 
may  make  mo  pleased  with  myself,  with  my  own 
progress.  It  is  so  easy  to  say  over  the  beautiful 
words  of  some  hymn  of  devotion,  it  is  so  easy  to 
call  myself  a  sinner,  when  no  being  but  God  can 
hear  the  utterance,  when  I  am  scarcely  able  to 
realize  that  even  he  is  conscious  of  it.  In  my 
repose,  while  to  be  pure  and  noble  and  self-sac- 
rificing seems  so  attractive,  so  lovely,  I  do  not 
feel  the  burden  of  my  own  sin.  It  lies  by  my 
side,  because  I  myself  am  not  in  action.  Alas  ! 
if  vanity  and  self-conceit  steal  upon  me  now,  when 
other  temptation  seems  far  away,  how  will  it  be 
with  me  when  my  honesty  in  the  presence  of 
others  is  tempted  ?  Can  I  be  true  then,  firm 
and  consistent,  unmoved  by  the  atmosphere  into 
which  I  pass,  pure  and  honest,  at  the  same  time 


12  A   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

patient  and  yielding  ?  This  day  may  become  a 
day  of  selfish  thought,  rather  than  of  self-renun- 
ciation, filled  with  idle  fancies  rather  than  prayer- 
fed  resolutions.  I  do  not  wish  to  look,  either, 
upon  such  a  day  as  one  of  those  long,  dreary, 
stormy  Sundays  that  are  sometimes  complained 
of.  I  should  like  to  make  it  a  true  day  of  rest 
and  strengthening  to  my  soul. 

For  this  reason  I  write  down  a  record  of  my 
thoughts,  that  at  some  future  stormy  Sunday  I 
may  examine  them,  and  find  if  they  were  health- 
ful and  life-giving,  if  they  have  brought  to  me 
any  of  that  fervor  that  the  walk  to  church  on  a 
sunshiny  Sunday  brings,  and  the  meeting  with 
the  preacher  and  congregation  of  worshippers. 

I  will  write  down,  too,  the  words  of  others, 
their  prayers  which  I  repeat  too  with  my  lips. 
This  will  serve  for  my  Sunday  service  to-day, 
and  perhaps  for  some  future  day.  I  begin  with 
some  solemn  words  of  Thomas  a  Kempis. 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  13 


OF  THE  EXERCISES  OF  A  GOOD  RELIGIOUS  PERSON. 

The  life  of  a  good  religious  person  ought  to  be 
adorned  with  all  virtues ;  that  he  may  inwardly 
be  such  as  outwardly  he  seemeth  to  men. 

And  with  reason  there  ought  to  be  much  more 
within  than  is  perceived  without.  For  God  be- 
holdeth  us ;  whom  we  are  bound  most  highly  to 
reverence  wheresoever  we  are,  and  to  walk  in 
purity  like  angels  in  his  sight. 

Daily  ought  we  to  renew  our  purposes,  and  to 
stir  up  ourselves  to  greater  fervor,  as  though  this 
were  the  first  day  of  our  conversion ;  and  to  say, 
"Help  me,  my  God,  in  this  my  good  purpose, 
and  in  thy  holy  service ;  and  grant  that  I  may 
now  this  day  begin  perfectly;  for  that  which  I 
have  done  hitherto  is  nothing.'' 

According  to  our  purpose  shall  be  the  success 
of  our  spiritual  profiting ;  and  much  diligence  is 
necessary  to  him  that  will  profit  much. 

.  And  if  he  that  firmly  purposeth  often  faileth, 
what  shall  he  do  that  seldom  purposeth  anything, 
or  with  little  resolvedness  ?  * 

It  may  fall  out  sundry  ways  that  we  leave  off 
our  purpose ;  yet  the  light  omission  of  spiritual 
exercises  seldom  passes  without  loss  to  our  souls. 

The  purpose  of  just  men  depends,  not  upon 
their  own  wisdom,  but  upon  God's  grace ;   on 
2 


14  A   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

whom  they  always  rely  for  whatsoever  they  take 
in  hand. 

For  man  proposes,  but  God  disposes ;  neither 
is  the  way  of  man  in  himself. 

If  an  accustomed  exercise  be  sometimes  omitted, 
either  for  some  act  of  piety  or  profit  to  my  broth- 
er, it  may  easily  afterward  be  recovered  again. 

But  if  out  of  a  slothful  mind,  or  out  of  care- 
lessness, we  lightly  forsake  the  same,  it  is  a  great 
offence  against  God,  and  will  be  found  to  be 
prejudicial  to  ourselves.  Let  us  do  the  best  we 
can ;  we  shall  still  too  easily  fail  in  many  things. 

Yet  must  we  always  purpose  some  certain 
course,  and  especially  against  those  failings  which 
do  most  of  all  molest  us. 

We  must  diligently  search  into  and  set  in 
order  both  the  outward  and  the  inward  man, 
because  both  of  them  are  of  importance  to  our 
progress  in  godliness. 

If  thou  canst  not  continually  recollect  thyself, 
yet  do  it  sometimes  ;  at  the  least  once  a  day, 
namely,  in  the  morning  or  at  night. 

In  the  morning  fix  thy  good  purpose ;  and  at 
night  examine  thyself,  —  what  thou  hast  done, 
how  thou  hast  behaved  thyself  in  word,  deed,  and 
thought;  for  in  these  perhaps  thou  hast  often- 
times offended  both  God  and  thy  neighbor. 

Gird  up  thy  loins  like  a  man  against  the  vile 
assaults  of  the  devil ;  bridle  thy  riotous  appetite, 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  15 

and  thou  shalt  be  the  better  able  to  keep  under  all 
the  unruly  motions  of  the  flesh. 

Never  be  entirely  idle ;  but  either  be  reading, 
or  writing,  or  praying,  or  meditating,  or  endeav- 
oring something  for  the  public  good. 

About  the  time  of  the  chief  festivals,  good  ex- 
ercises are  to  be  renewed,  and  the  prayers  of  holy 
men  more  fervently  to  be  implored. 

From  festival  to  festival  we  should  make  some 
good  purpose,  as  though  we  were  then  to  depart 
out  of  this  world  and  to  come  to  the  everlasting 
feast  in  heaven. 

Therefore  ought  we  carefully  to  prepare  our- 
selves at  holy  times,  and  to  live  more  devoutly, 
and  to  keep  more  exactly  all  things  that  we  are 
to  observe,  as  though  we  were  shortly  at  God's 
hands  to  receive  the  reward  of  our. labors. 

But  if  it  be  deferred,  let  us  think  with  our- 
selves that  we  are  not  sufficiently  prepared,  and 
unworthy  yet  of  so  great  glory  which  shall  be 
revealed  in  us  in  due  time  ;  and  let  us  endeavor 
to  prepare  ourselves  better  for  our  departure. 

"  Blessed  is  that  servant,"  saith  the  Evangelist 
St.  Luke,  "  whom  his  Lord  when  he  cometh  shall 
find  watching ;  verily  I  say  unto  you,  he  shall 
make  him  ruler  over  all  his  goods." 


16  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 


PRAYER  FOR  SOLITUDE. 

0  God,  who  at  this  moment  art  present  to  the 
congregation  kneeling  before  thee,  and  to  the 
silent  worshipper  in  solitude,  make  me  conscious 
of  thy  presence,  that  so  I  may  bow  my  soul  before 
thee.  Thou  art  greater  than  any  human  thought 
can  conceive  of:  with  thy  almighty  power,  help 
me  to  reach  unto  thee !  Thou  art  more  mer- 
ciful than  any  earthly  friend :  forgive  my  many 
faults,  and  help  me  to  rest  upon  thee  !  Thou 
knowest  my  past  life,  as  well  as  what  is  to  come  : 
help  me  to  tread  in  the  path  that  lies  before  me ! 
Thou  hast  surrounded  me  with  blessings :  help 
me  to  be  grateful  for  them  to  thee  !  Thou  hast 
appeared  to  me  in  sorrow  :  help  me  to  remember 
that  it  was  in  the  sorrowful  moment  I  saw  thee  ! 
I  am  too  blind  to  see  thy  hand  in  all  the  changes 
of  my  life  :  wilt  thou  then  help  me  to  faith,  that 
I  may  acknowledge  thee ! 

1  look  back  upon  many  hours  of  happiness 
when  I  was  forgetful  of  thy  presence,  upon  many 
of  trial  when  my  heart  knew  not  how  to  turn  to- 
wards thee.  In  the  hours  that  are  to  come,  let 
me  be  more  conscious  of  thy  presence,  so  that 
days  and  nights  of  sorrow  or  of  joy  need  only 
speak  to  me  of  thee.  Give  me  strength  in  my 
lonely  moments,  give  me  courage  in  the  hour  of 


THE   RHODODENDRONS.  17 

temptation.  Help  me  to  help  others,  that  in  what- 
ever I  do  I  may  act  with  thy  inspiration  alone. 

May  the  good  resolutions  that  I  make  this  day 
grow  stronger  and  become  more  fruitful  as  the 
days  pass  by.  And  when  the  hours  of  distraction 
come,  let  my  heart  never  be  distracted  from  thee. 
May  I  learn  from  the  life  and  the  words  of  Christ 
how  I  may  find  thee,  that  from  these  I  may 
know  how,  and  may  venture  to  call  thee  Father, 
who  art  the  creator  and  sustainer  of  all. 

Help  thou  my  unbelief,  since  I  know  not  how 
to  rise  up  to  so  great  a  good,  and,  with  thy  spirit 
helping  me,  may  I  learn  what  it  is  to  be  a  child 
of  God ;  which  I  would  ask  in  the  name  and  with 
the  help  of  the  Saviour. 


.     2* 


18  A   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

FROM  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT. 

Matt.  vi. 

No  man  can  serve  two  masters  ;  for  either  he 
will  hate  the  one  and  love  the  other,  or  else  he 
will  hold  to  the  one  and  despise  the  other.  Ye 
cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon. 

Therefore  I  say  unto  you,  Take  no  thought  for 
your  life,  what  ye  shall  eat  or  what  ye  shall 
drink  ;  nor  yet  for  your  body,  what  ye  shall  put 
on.  Is  not  the  life  more  than  meat,  and  the 
body  than  raiment  ? 

Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air ;  for  they  sow  not, 
neither  do  they  reap,  nor  gather  into  barns  ;  yet 
your  Heavenly  Father  feedeth  them.  Are  ye  not 
much  better  than  they  ? 

Which  of  you  by  taking  thought  can  add  one 
cubit  unto  his  stature  ? 

And  why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment  ?  Con- 
sider the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow  ;  they 
toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin.  And  yet  I  say  un- 
to you,  that  even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not 
arrayed  like  one  of  these. 

Wherefore,  if  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the 
field,  which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into 
the  oven,  shall  he  not  much  more  clothe  you,  0 . 
ye  of  little  faith  ? 

Therefore  take  no  thought,  saying,  What  shall 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  19 

we  eat  ?  or,  What  shall  we  drink  ?  or,  Where- 
withal shall  we  be  clothed  ? 

(For  after  all  these  things  do  the  Gentiles  seek ;) 
for  your  Heavenly  Father  knoweth  that  ye  have 
need  of  all  these  things. 

But  seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
his  righteousness,  and  all  these  things  shall  be 
added  unto  you. 

Take,  therefore,  no  thought  for  the  morrow ; 
for  the  morrow  shall  take  thought  for  the  things 
of  itself.  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof. 


20  A   STORMY   SUNDAY. 


A  HYMN.* 

0  help  us,  Lord !  each  hour  of  need 

Thy  heavenly  succor  give ; 
Help  us  in  thought  and  word  and  deed, 

Each  hour  on  earth  we  live. 

O  help  us  when  our  spirits  bleed, 

With  contrite  anguish  tore ! 
And  when  our  hearts  are  cold  and  dead, 

O  help  us,  Lord,  the  more ! 

O  help  us,  through  the  prayer  of  faith, 

More  firmly  to  believe  ! 
For  still  the  more  the  servant  hath, 

The  more  shall  he  receive. 

If,  strangers  to  thy  fold,  we  call, 

Imploring,  at  thy  feet, 
The  crumbs  that  from  thy  table  fall, 

'T  is  all  we  dare  entreat. 

But  be  it,  Lord  of  mercy,  all, 

So  thou  wilt  grant  but  this; 
The  crumbs  that  from  thy  table  fall 

Are  light  and  life  and  bliss. 

O  help  us,  Father,  from  on  high ! 

We  know  no  help  but  thee ; 
O  help  us  so  to  live  and  die 

As  thine  in  heaven  to  be ! 

*  By  Milman. 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  21 

If  we  could  but  carry  about  with  us  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  ever-present  God,  we  might  per- 
haps do  without  the  solemnization  of  one  day  to 
his  service.  We  go  about  our  week-day  duties 
forgetting  him,  as  the  busy  man  in  the  crowded 
streets  forgets  the  clear  sky  above  him.  Some- 
times, it  is  true,  God  seems  to  have  been  scarce- 
ly nearer  us  on  the  day  we  pretend  to  devote  to 
him,  than  when  we  are  about  the  world's  busi- 
ness. Yet  it  is  more  deeply  our  fault,  if  we  can- 
not bring  him  to  our  hearts  in  our  devotion  and 
our  worship.  For  it  is  easier  to  draw  near  to 
him  in  contemplation  than  in  action.  We  read 
of  mystics,  of  the  old  recluses,  who  spent  their 
lives  in  contemplation  of  God,  swallowing  up  in 
the  thought  of  him  all  personal  desires,  all  self- 
ish impulses.  Alas !  often  as  they  looked  so 
fixedly  into  their  own  souls,  they  may  have  found 
there  only  the  reflection  of  themselves,  and,  lost 
in  thought,  have  forgotten  all  the  traces  of  God  in 
his  creations.  Yet  in  the  silence  of  thought  it  is 
easier  to  conceive  of  the  greatness  of  God.  As 
in  night  the  countless  worlds  appear  that  were 
hidden  in  the  daytime  by  the  light  of  the  nearer 
world,  the  sun,  so  in  silent  thought  come  up  the 
memories  of  the  countless  blessings  of  God,  that 
are  lost  in  the  one  great  blessing  that  he  gives 
us,  of  action  in  life. 

These  quiet  hours  recall  to  us  his  greatness 


22  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

and  his  love.  We  have  time  to  dwell  upon  his 
goodness.  In  the  quick  passing  of  every  day 
we  do  not  find  time  to  be  thankful.  We  let 
events  go  by  as  if  they  followed  one  another  me- 
chanically. And  our  life  becomes  mechanical. 
Its  duties  are  laid  upon  certain  hours,  and  are 
taken  up  without  thought.  We  pass  through 
the  routine  of  a  week,  and  remember  that  our 
hands  have  been  occupied,  while  our  hearts  have 
been  moved  with  scarcely  a  single  impulse.  Or 
else  our  affections  have  been  selfishly  employed. 
We  have  not  looked  up  from  the  round  of  our  daily 
occupations,  nor  been  lifted  by  a  single  high  aim. 
Sometimes  through  the  week  we  have  been  re- 
minded of  God,  by  some  happy  glimpse  of  nature, 
or  some  awakening  word  of  a  friend.  Or  else,  in 
some  moment  of  pain  or  agony,  we  have  found 
we  must  call  upon  Him,  or  have  seen  some  suf- 
ferer who  has  found  patience  through  love  of  him. 
But  seldom  have  we  found  him  our  strength 
and  support  for  our  little  daily  trials.  He  seems 
almost  too  great  for  us  to  come  to  him  with  our 
little  temptations  and  trials.  And  yet  it  is  these 
little  temptations  that  avail  to  stain  the  white- 
ness of  our  character.  It  is  our  lesser  trials 
before  which  we  grow  weak  and  faint.  It  is  the 
duties  of  every  day  that  we  find  so  hard  to  per- 
form. The  greater  duties,  when  they  come,  bring 
with  them  a  grand  impulse,  and  carry  us  out  in- 
to the  fresh  air. 


THE  EHODODENDRONS.  23 

How  inspiring  it  is,  when  a  fresh  air  does 
breathe  over  "our  daily  duties,  when  some  new 
awakening  rouses  us  to  a  new  life,  and  makes 
every  morning  like  the  first  day  in  Paradise  !  It 
matters  very  little  then  what  we  have  to  do,  — 
our  zeal  is  strong  to  carry  us  through  all.  And 
we  find  our  own  earnestness  reflected  on  those 
around  us,  and  we  no  longer  have  any  burden  to 
carry,  but  are  travelling  because  the  way  invites 
us]  This  is  what  we  call  life.  Otherwise  the 
passage  of  each  day  is  monotony  and  mechanism. 
It  is  the  same  to  the  laborer  who  counts  his  hours 
till  the  time  of  rest  shall  come,  and  to  the  more 
weary  man  who  tries  to  invent  labor  for  his 
hours,  that  so  he  may  buy  rest  for  himself  at  the 
day's  end.  But  life  is  more  than  this.  It  gives 
a  charm  to  the  necessary  labor.  It  gives  a  fresh- 
ness to  the  seemingly  unoccupied  hours. 

But  this  life  must  come- from  God.  We  cannot 
work,  even  in  this  world,  without  him.  When 
we  involve  ourselves  in  the  interests  of  society, 
of  business,  of  self,  —  however  various,  we  make 
them,  however  we  number  them,  —  we  are  losing 
our  life  so  long  as  they  shut  out  the  thought  of 
Him  who  is  the  source  of  life.  One  gay  scene 
after  another  is  but  the  repetition  one  of  another, 
if  we  have  not  enlivened  them  all  by  a  thought 
of  something  higher.  The  more  we  give  our 
thoughts  to  our  own  self-interest,  the  more  are 


24  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

we  dulling  our  capacities  for  happiness,  —  we  are 
contracting  our  hearts. 

These  thoughts  have  come  into  my  mind  on 
reading  the  text  of  a  sermon  before  me,  —  "  The 
Father  is  with. me."  I  wish  I  could  teach  myself 
how  it  was  that  Christ  felt  always  this  presence 
of  G-od,  for  so  it  was  that  he  made  his  life  a  con- 
stant renewal,  and  his  death  but  a  sign  of  another 
life  to  come. 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  25 

SERMON  BY  REV.  W.  B.  0.  PEABODY. 

HITHERTO  UNPUBLISHED. 

"  The  Father  is  with  me.'*  —  John  xvi.  32. 

Have  you  never  seen  the  time  when  you 
felt  so  desolate  that  the  presence  of  any  being 
would  have  been  a  relief  to  you?  Have  you 
never  seen  the  time  when  you  have  done  some 
unworthy  deed  which  you  could  not  have  done  if 
you  had  felt  that  any  being  was  near  you  ? 
Have  you  never  gained  some  victory  over  your 
own  passions,  and  wished  for  some  witness  of  your 
triumph,  some  sharer  of  your  joy  ?  Christianity 
supplies  these  wants  of  the  soul.  It  teaches  us 
that  the  greatest  and  best  of  all  beings  is  always 
near  us,  —  all  we  need  is  to  learn  to  feel  His  pres- 
ence in  our  souls. 

There  is  no  safeguard  of  human  virtue  half  so 
powerful  as  the  thought  that  a  being  is  present, 
nor  does  that  thought  lose  its  power  when  we  are 
told  that  a  being  is  present,  and  that  being  is  God. 
Do  we  not  fear  him  because  we  cannot  see  him 
with  our  eyes  ?  If  the  simple  presence  of  a  hu- 
man being  has  power  over  us,  and  the  presence 
of  God  has  no  power,  there  must  be  something 
wrong  in  our  souls. 

There  is  something  wrong  in  our  souls,  —  this 
want  of  spirituality  is  wrong,  —  it  is  wrong  to  let 
our  minds  be  so  enslaved  to  visible  things  as  to 

3 


26  A   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

think  more  of  every  created  thing  than  of  the 
God  who  made  it.  There  is  no  such  thing  as 
being  religious  while  we  are  strangers  to  God. 

The  spirit  of  religion  consists  in  making  the 
thought  of  God  near,  familiar,  and  welcome  ;  and 
you  can  tell  the  amount  of  your  own  or  any  oth- 
er man's  religious  improvement  by  ascertaining 
whether  or  not  he  loves  to  think  of  God.  He 
who  does  not  take  pleasure  in  thinking  of  God 
has  no  claim  to  the  name  of  Christian.  It  is 
true  there  are  many  in  the  Christian  world  who 
never  think  of  God  when  they  can  avoid  it,  who 
pronounce  his  name  often  in  profaneness,  and 
never  in  prayer.  They  consider  themselves  Chris- 
tians, they  expect  the  Divine  blessing,  they  hope 
to  be  saved ;  if  so,  they  cannot  be  undeceived  too 
soon.  But  let  us  learn  from  Jesus  Christ  how 
far  he  felt  the  presence  of  his  Father, — from  him 
we  can  learn  our  Christian  duty. 

Our  Saviour  is  here  telling  his  disciples  that 
in  a  little  while,  in  a  few  hours,  the  officers  of 
power  will  be  in  search  of  him,  and  they  will 
leave  him  alone,  without  a  single  friend  to  sus- 
tain him  in  the  anxiety  and  suffering  before  him. 
He  did  not  mean  to  reproach  them  with  this  de- 
sertion ;  it  was  but  too  natural  that  they  should 
look  upon  their  own  danger  with  dismay.  He 
meant  rather  to  tell  them  that  they  need  not  up- 
braid themselves,  for  though  all  the  world  forsake 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  27 

mm,  he  shall  not  be  left  alone;  his  Almighty  Friend 
and  Father  will  be  with  him  still. 

But  while  Jesus  Christ  used  this  thought  of  the 
Divine  presence  for  his  own  support  and  encour- 
agement, this  was  not  the  only  reason  for  which 
he  recommended  it  to  them.  He  wished  they 
might  use  it  as  a  shield  in  temptation,  because 
they  were  to  be  often  and  severely  tried.  He 
wished  they  might  use  it  as  a  consolation  in  their 
solitude  and  despondency,  when  they  too  were 
tempted  to  say  to  God,  Why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me  ?  He  wished  them  to  bear  it  with  them,  to 
inspire  them  in  all  their  duties,  —  and  this  was  the 
most  important  thing ;  to  know  that  the  eye  of 
God  was  beaming  in  its  kindness  upon  them,  to 
know  that  it  smiled  encouragement  upon  their 
labor  when  lover  and  friend  were  far  from  them, 
to  know  that  their  least  sacrifices  and  efforts  were 
seen  and  remembered,  would  give  them  the  ani- 
mation they  wanted  as  they  went  about  doing 
good. 

.  The  reflection  that  we  are  not  alone,  but  our 
Father  is  with  us,  is  our  safeguard  in  temptation ; 
that  he  is  with  us,  we  know  ;  that  none  of  our 
actions  escape  his  view,  we  know ;  that  he  sees 
our  soul  when  balanced  between  the  choice  of 
good  and  evil,  we  know ;  —  but  these  are  among 
the  things  that  we  know  without  feeling  them, 
and  which  it  does  no  good  to  know  without  we  feel 


28  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

tliem.  "What  avails  it  to  us  that  there  is  a  heav- 
en, unless  it  serves  to  encourage  us  in  our  duties 
and  sorrows  ?  what  avails  it  that  we  have  a  relig- 
ion, unless  we  believe  it  so  far  as  to  be  influenced 
by  its  revelations  ?  what  avails  it  to  us  that  God 
is  present,  unless  we  act  as  if  he  were  the  wit- 
ness of  our  lives  ?  It  avails  so  little,  that  those 
who  forget  the  presence  of  God  are  regarded  as 
without  God  in  the  world. 

But  how  are  we  to  feel  the  presence  of  God  ? 
how  can  we  make  that  which  is  not  visible  to  the 
eyes  distinct  and  visible  to  the  soul  ?  How  is  it 
that  the  youth,  who,  distant  from  his  parent's  eye, 
with  pleasures  all  around  him  soliciting  his  desires, 
with  all  things  about  him  conspiring  to  drown  the 
voice  of  his  conscience  and  make  him  glory  in 
his  shame,  —  how  is  it  that  he  is  sometimes  cut 
to  the  heart  by  the  thought  of  parents  who  sit  in 
solitude  at  home,  depriving  themselves  of  comforts 
for  his  sake,  sacrificing  their  very  lives  that  he 
may  want  nothing,  while  he  is  conscious  that  all 
he  wrings  from  them  is  wasted  in  guilty  pleasure  ? 
How  is  it  that  their  written  expressions  of  affec- 
tionate interest  sometimes  wound  him  as  if  they 
were  written  with  fire  upon  his  heart  ?  how  is  it 
that  sometimes  the  thought  of  their  kindness 
makes  him  start  from  these  delusions,  burst  the 
chains  like  a  giant,  and  return  to  the  path  of 
duty  ?    Such  examples  are  not  uncommon  among 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  29 

the  young,  and  all  who  have  seen  them  may- 
know  what  a  father's  presence,  even  the  thought  of 
a  father's  presence,  can  do.  Can  it  be  that  there 
is  less  power  in  the  thought  of  God  ?  I  do  not 
believe  it.  Sometimes  God  has  been  represented 
to  us  in  youth  in  such  a  way  that  he  has  no  place 
either  in  our  affection  nor  reverence  ;  but  when 
the  parents  have  done  their  duty,  —  where  we 
have  been  taught  to  look  up  to  God  as  one  who 
has  an  affectionate  and  never  weary  interest  in 
our  welfare, — where  we  have  been  used  to  re- 
gard him,  not  as  a  gloomy  and  stern  avenger,  but 
a  kind  and  faithful  friend,  (all  which  he  is,)  — 
I  believe  that  the  thought  of  him  has  power  to 
wound  the  heart  as  deeply  as  the  mild  upbraiding 
of  a  father's  eye.  But  if  we  will  not  feel  his  pres- 
ence, we  shall  not  feel  it,  —  it  is  a  matter  of 
choice  ;  if  we  will  not  feel  it,  we  shall  lose  all  the 
security  which  it  would  have  afforded  us  in  the 
various  temptations  of  life,  —  we  shall  not  feel  it 
till  this  world  is  sinking  before  our  eyes,  when 
they  are  heavy  with  death,  and  when  the  feeling 
of  his  presence  is  a  feeling  of  despair. 

The  reflection  that  we  are  not  alone,  but  our 
Father  is  with  us,  is  our  support  in  sorrow.  But 
his  presence  must  be  familiar  to  us,  or  it  can  af- 
ford us  no  consolation ;  it  is  not  the  thought  of 
one  whom  we  have  wronged  and  offended,  one 
whose  favor  we  have  never  tried  to  gain,  that 
3* 


30  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

can  give  us  happiness  in  dreary  hours.  It  is  the 
thought  of  him  whose  kindness  we  have  loved  to 
acknowledge  and  remember,  him  whose  friend- 
ship we  have  valued  and  endeavored  to  gain ;  and 
if  in  days  of  prosperity  we  have  been  thankless 
and  forgetful  of  God,  his  presence  cannot  be 
grateful  to  us  in  adversity,  however  kind  and 
cheering,  for  every  word  and  look  of  an  injured 
friend  is  a  deep  reproach  to  the  guilty. 

We  not  only  lose  the  consolation  which  the 
presence  of  God  might  afford  us,  but,  unless  we 
are  familiar  with  his  presence,  it  seems  like  the 
presence  of  an  enemy  exulting  in  our  pain.  So 
darkly  is  God  represented  by  those  who  know 
him  not,  that,  when  misfortune  comes,  they  regard 
it  not  as  a  chastening,  but  as  an  injury ;  instead  of 
asking  what  they  have  done  to  deserve  kindness 
at  his  hands,  what  reason-  there  is  why  he  should 
not  send  misfortunes  severer  still,  they  complain 
bitterly  of  his  withdrawing  his  goodness  when 
perhaps  he  has  not  heard  one  word  of  thankful- 
ness from  their  lips  in  the  whole  course  of  their 
lives. 

But  how  is  it  that  a  father's  presence  ever 
gives  consolation  ?  It  is  because  the  son  feels 
that  there  is  one  near  him  who  sympathizes  deep- 
ly with  his  grief,  one  who  is  able  to  understand 
his  feelings,  one  who  is  ready  to  aid  him,  tear 
for  tear.     The  thing  that  makes  suffering  intol- 


THE   RHODODENDRONS.  31 

erable  is  the  thought  that  it  is  nothing  to  them 
that  pass  by,  that  others  are  going  about  their 
business  and  enjoying  themselves  as  usual,  while 
our  house  is  made  desolate  by  grief ;  and  to  hear 
others  rejoice  in  that  suffering  is  more  than  we 
can  bear.  Even  Jesus  Christ,  when  he  saw  the 
smiles  of  malicious  triumph,  and  heard  the  ac- 
clamations round  his  cross,  felt  for  a  moment  as 
if  all  were  against  him,  as  if  he  was  deserted  even 
by  his  God. 

If  we  will  have  a  support  in  sorrow  then,  one 
which  will  sustain  us  when  we  have  no  other,  we 
must  make  a  friend  of  God.  A  friend  to  man  he 
is,  however  unworthy  ;  but  we  must  feel  his 
friendship,  we  must  have  an  answering  feeling 
awakened  in  our  own  breasts.  Otherwise,  though 
we  are  not  alone,  we  shall  feel  as  if  we  were 
alone ;  we  shall  endure  all  the  sorrow  of  desola- 
tion when  our  friend  is  standing  nigh.  And  who 
can  say  that  he  will  remain  with  those  who  cold- 
ly disregard  him  ?  We  know  it  is  what  we  should 
never  do  for  others,  and  we  should  ask  ourselves 
what  right,  what  reason,  we  have  to  expect  it  of 
God. 

The  reflection  that  we  are  not  alone,  but  our 
Father  is  with  us,  is  the  best  inspiration  we  can 
have  in  duty.  And  if  our  lot  in  life  is  a  hard 
one,  or  if  our  interest  in  duty  leads  us  to  make 
great  exertions,  there  will  be  many  times  when 


32  A    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

we  shall  want  all  the  encouragement  which  a 
thought  like  this  can  give.  Those  who  have 
never  done  a  duty  from  principle  may  not  know 
it ;  but  there  are  times  when,  though  the  heart 
retains  its  resolution,  the  weak  nature  faints  and 
cannot  go  through.  Such  times  there  were  even 
to  Jesus  Christ ;  divine  as  his  resignation  was, 
there  were  times  when  he  felt  as  if  he  could  go 
no  farther,  though  the  universe  could  not  make 
him  retreat  one  step.  In  such  a  time  you  will 
find  it  written  of  him  that  he  withdrew  into  the 
wilderness  and  prayed,  —  that  he  fell  on  his  face 
and  prayed,  while  sometimes  the  drops  wrung 
from  him  by  deep  agony  were  flowing  from  his 
brow ;  — 

"  Cold  mountains  and  the  midnight  air 
Witnessed  the  fervor  of  his  prayer." 

Our  duty  in  life  is  as  different  from  his,  as  the 
fireside  from  the  field  of  battle  ;  our  yoke  is  easy 
and  our  burden  light.  But  even  in  our  duty, 
when  all  goes  well,  when  devotion  is  a  pleasure, 
when  it  is  our  enjoyment  to  do  good,  when  we 
feel  that  every  day  bears  us  onward  as  a  wave  to 
that  improvement  which  ends  in  heaven,  it  is 
cheering  to  think  that  there  is  joy  in  heaven  at 
witnessing  the  growth  of  religious  excellence  in 
any  human  heart.  This  happiness  we  may  en- 
joy when  we  will,  for  if  there  is  joy  in  heaven 
over  the  sinner  that  repenteth,  there  is  a  calmer, 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  33 

a  less  distrusting  joy  at  witnessing  the  change 
from  glory  to  glory  which  will,  when  the  short 
labor  of  life  is  over,  add  another  radiant  spirit  to 
the  seraphs  and  sons  of  light. 

But  what  is  inspiring  in  the  prosperous  hours 
is  necessary  in  those  times  of  despondency  from 
which  no  course  of  duty  will  ever  be  free  There 
is  a  time  when  the  heart  sinks,  when  the  confi- 
dence fails,  when  we  feel  as  if  we  had  labored  in 
vain.  There  is  a  time  when  we  seem  with  all 
our  exertions  forced  downwards  as  by  the  rush 
of  the  stream,  when  we  feel  as  if  each  coming 
year  of  life  found  us  standing  still  farther  from 
.God.  There  is  a  time  when  everything  connect- 
ed with  the  world,  even  its  cares  and  duties, 
makes  us  weary  and  sick  at  heart.  Then  we  can 
find  encouragement  in  the  thought  of  God,  and  of 
God  alone.  If  all  earthly  things  sink  beneath  us, 
we  have  left  Him  who  alone  has  immortality; 
everything  earthly  is  unsatisfactory,  and  there 
will  be  times  when  we  shall  feel  it  in  our  hearts. 
But  we  have  no  need  to  trust  in  the  perishing 
world ;  and  if  we  do,  we  do  it  in  defiance  of  warn- 
ing. When  the  doors  of  mansions  of  light  are 
thrown  open  for  us  to  enter,  why  should  we  in- 
sist on  making  our  bed  in  the  grave  ? 

Such  is  the  security  and  support  afforded  us  by 
the  presence  of  God  in  life;  but  all  these  are 
hardly  to  be  compared  with  the  support  it  affords 


34  A   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

in  death,  —  I  mean  to  those  who  have  not  been 
strangers  to  God.  It  is  as  well  to  bring  that  hour 
before  us,  because  it  is  one  which  we  must  all  of 
us  go  through,  —  some  of  us  very  soon.  It  is  well 
to  ask  whether  we  shall  be  sustained  by  the  pres- 
ence of  God  when  the  eye  is  closed  to  everything 
it  has  loved  and  treasured  on  earth,  and  the  last 
breathings  of  affection  have  died  away  upon  the 
ear  for  ever.  All  the  past  but  the  remembrance 
of  our  goodness  or  our  guilt  will  perish  from  the 
soul ;  all  the  eternal  future  will  spread  itself  out 
before  us,  —  a  dark  and  dreary  wilderness  to  those 
who  have  left  their  affections  behind  them  in  the 
world,  —  a  place  of  glory  and  joy  to  those  who  have 
prepared  for  the  heavenly  country.  In  all  the 
wide  reach  of  the  universe,  not  a  single  being  can 
be  near  to  sustain  us  then  beside  our  God.  Let 
us,  then,  secure  his  favor,  which  is  life ;  let  us  pro- 
vide a  stay  and  solace  against  that  awful  hour  to 
which  we  all  shall  come. 

Then  we  shall  not  be  alone  in  death.  The 
Father,  our  Father,  will  be  with  us ;  the  gates  of 
mercy  will  open  to  receive  us ;  Jesus,  the  medi- 
ator of  the  new  covenant,  will  welcome  us  to  the 
many  mansions,  and  we  shall  receive  the  crown 
of  righteousness  from  the  hand  of  God. 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  35 


HOPE  IN  DEATH. 

FROM    THE  GERMAN  OF    KLOPSTOCK. 

How  will  it  be  with  me  then,  O  then ! 
When  I,  to  rejoice  in  the  Lord, 
Shall  fall  asleep  in  Him  ! 
No  longer  stained  with  any  sin,    . 
Set  free  from  mortality, 
Bejoice  thyself,  my  soul ! 
Strengthen,  console  thyself, 
Redeemed  one,  with  the  life 
That  thy  God  will  give  thee  then ! 

I  rejoice  and  I  tremble  ! 

The  yoke  of  my  misery  presses  me  so, 

The  curse  of  my  sin  casts  me  down ! 

But  the  Lord  makes  easy  my  yoke  ; 

Through  Him  does  my  heart  grow  strong 

It  believes  and  rises  again. 

Jesus  !  Christ !    Let  me  strive 

To  live  to  thee,  —  to  die  in  thee,  — 

To  inherit  thy  Father's  kingdom ! 

Scorn  then  all  terror  of  death, 
My  soul !  't  is  a  path  to  look  upon, 
The  way  through  the  dark  valley. 
Let  it  be  no  more  fearful  to  thee ! 
Unto  the  most  Holy  it  leads, 
The  way  into  the  dark  valley 
The  rest  of  God 
Is  imperishable,  abundant ; 
The  redeemed  may  trust  in  him ! 


36  A  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

My  Lord !  my  Lord !  I  know  not  the  hour 

That,  when  my  eyelids  shall  fail, 

Will  gather  me  with  thy  dead. 

Perhaps  its  night  may  surround  me 

Before  I  finish  this  prayer, 

Or  have  stammered  this  praise  unto  thee. 

Father !  Father !  into  thy  hands 

Commit  I  my  soul,  — 

Kind  Father,  into  thy  hands ! 

Perhaps  my  days  will  be  many ; 
I  am  yet,  perhaps,  far  from  the  goal 
Over  which  the  crown  is  shining. 
Am  I  yet  far  from  the  goal  ? 
This  tabernacle  of  my  mortality, 
Will  it  be,  but  late,  destroyed  ? 
Permit,  Father !  my  Father ! 
That  good  deeds,  good  deeds, 
May  accompany  me 
To  the  throne  of  Eternity ! 

How  will  it  be,  ah  !  how  will  it  be  with  me  then, 

When  I  shall  rejoice  in  the  Lord, 

Shall  offer  worship  there ! 

No  longer  stained  with  sin, 

A  partaker  of  eternity  ! 

No  longer  a  child  of  earth ! 

Blessed  One,  let  us  sing  to  thee ! 

Bring  praise  and  honor 

To  thee,  who  hast  been,  wilt  ever  be  ! 


THE  BHODODENDRONS.  37 

God  only  knows  in  what  department  we  shall 
best  advance.  Our  duty  is  to  accept  the  situation 
best  adapted  for  us,  and  use  it  to  the  best  advan- 
tage as  long  as  we  live.  Then,  when  we  are 
called  away,  and  enter  another  field  of  labor,  it 
will  be  of  little  consequence  upon  what  sort  of 
materials  we  have  wrought  in  this  world.  The 
test  will  not  then  be  whether  our  hands  have 
tilled  the  earth,  built  in  wood  or  stone,  pulled  the 
ropes  of  a  ship,  written  a  book,  painted  a  picture, 
or  held  the  sceptre  of  a  nation ;  but  whether  we 
have  gained  from  these  employments  that  power 
of  mind,  purity  of  taste,  and  uprightness  and 
force  of  character,  which  will  enable  us  to  grap- 
ple with  higher  themes  and  more  suitable  occu- 
pations. Our  gold,  our  merchandise,  our  lands, 
our  civic  honors,  our  poem,  or  our  temple  we  can- 
not take  with  us ;  but  we  shall  take  the  soul, 
which  has  been  fashioned  by  our  effort  to  gain 
these  possessions,  and  to  acquire  and  create  this 
power  and  these  works.  And  he  who  carries  to 
the  unknown  world  the  noblest  results  from  this, 
has  lived  the  best,  and  had  a  genuine  success  in 
life.  And  whether  that  spirit  be  Shakespeare, 
Washington,  or  some  faithful  tiller  of  the  ground 
or  sailor  upon  the  great  deep,  or  man  of  various 
worldly  cares,  or  woman  unknown  out  of  her 
well-ordered  circle,  God  only  can  decide  ;  but  this 
we  know,  that  we  can  serve  him  only  by  making 

4 


38  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

the  most  of  those  opportunities  his  wisdom  has 
contrived  for  our  growth  in  the  Christian  life. 

For  God's  method  of  education  is  the  best,  and 
we  only  go  wrong  and  fall  into  confusion  when 
we  would  alter  it.  When  he  creates  an  oak,  he 
does  not  plant  it  in  a  hot-house,  and  send  garr 
deners  to  water  it,  and  shut  off  or  let  in  the  light 
and  heat ;  but  an  acorn  drops  into  the  side  of  a 
hill,  and  by  and  by  a  green  twig  shoots  up  among 
the  rocks,  and  through  drenching  and  freezing, 
and  scorching  and  blowing,  and  the  sifting  of 
the  earth  over  it,  and  the  "  haphazard  "  of  vege- 
table life,  it  fights  its  way  along,  season  by  sea- 
son, till  in  a  hundred  years  it  shades  the  herds- 
man and  the.  flock,  and  the  wild  storm  becomes 
an  anthem  away  up  among  its  branches.  Neither 
does  he  choose  to  rear  us  to  manhood  upon  spir- 
itual dainties,  or  in  the  conservatory  of  any  tran- 
scendental theory,  but  gives  us  a  soul,  and  a  will, 
and  a  place  to  grow  in  the  midst  of  his  universe. 
And  by  living  as  he  has  appointed,  —  now  stand- 
ing with  our  faces  scorched  in  fires  of  sorrow, 
now  pacing  over  flats  of  monotonous  labor,  now 
twisting,  and  stooping,  and  clambering  through 
rugged  paths,  now  waiting  in  the  dark  for  the 
appearing  of  one  star,  —  by  being  all  and  doing 
all  that  he  wills,  do  we  grow  up  into  the""  perfect 
man,  to  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness 
of  Christ."  — A  D.  Mayo, 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  39 

Have  patience  with  all  things,  but  chiefly  have 
patience  with  yourself.  Do  not  lose  courage  by 
considering  your  own  imperfections,  but  instantly 
set  about  remedying  them ;  every  day  begin  the 
task  anew.  For,  in  the  first  place,  how  can  you 
patiently  bear  your  brother's  burden,  if  you  will 
not  bear  your  own  ?  —  Francis  de  Sales. 

To  live  something  more  than  one's  self,  —  that 
is  the  secret  of  all  that  is  great ;  to  know  how  to 
live  for  others,  —  that  is  the  aim  of  all  noble 
souls. 

Because  thou  sayest,  I  am  rich,  and  increased 
with  goods,  and  have  need  of  nothing  ;  and 
knowest  not  that  thou  art  wretched,  and  misera- 
ble, and  poor,  and  blind,  and  naked ;  I  counsel 
thee  to  buy  of  me  gold  tried  in  the  fire,  that  thou 
mayest  be  rich ;  and  white  raiment,  that  thou 
mayest  be  clothed,  and  that  the  shame  of  thy  na- 
kedness do  not  appear ;  and  anoint  thine  eyes 
with  eye-salve,  that  thou  mayest  see. 

As  many  as  I  love,  I  rebuke  and  chasten ;  be 
zealous  therefore,  and  repent.  —  Revelation  iii. 
17-19. 

It  is  neither  the  austerities  of  the  body  nor  the 
agitations  of, the  soul,  but  the  good  emotions  of 
the  heart,  which  require  and  which  sustain  the 


40  A   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

pains  of  the  body  and  the  soul.  For  there  are 
needed  these  two  things  towards  our  purification, 
pains  and  pleasures.  St.  Paul  has  said  that 
those  who  will  enter  upon  the  good  way  will  find 
troubles  and  anxieties  without  number.  This 
ought  to  serve  as  consolation,  since,  being  warned 
that  the  way  to  heaven  that  we  seek  is  filled 
with  them,  we  ought  to  rejoice  at  meeting  such 
signs  that  we  are  in  the  true  road.  But  these 
pains  are  not  without  pleasure,  and  are  surmount- 
ed only  with  pleasure.  For  as  those  who  quit 
God  to  return  to  the  world  do  it  only  because 
they  find  more  sweetness  in  the  pleasures  of  the 
world  than  in  a  union  with  God,  and  because 
this  charm  victoriously  allures  them,  and,  making 
them  repent  of  their  first  choice,  renders  them 
the  a  devil's  penitents,"  according  to  the  phrase  of 
Tertullian,  so  we  should  never  quit  the  pleasures 
of  the  world  to  embrace  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ, 
were  there  not  to  be  found  more  sweetness  in 
contempt,  poverty,  self-renunciation,  and  in  the 
scorn  of  men,  than  in  the  charms  of  sin.  And 
thus,  as  Tertullian  says,  it  is  not  necessary  to  fan- 
cy the  life  of  a  Christian  a  life  of  sadness.  He 
never  quits  pleasures  but  for  others  still  greater. 
Pray  without  ceasing,  says  St.  Paul ;  in  every- 
thing give  thanks ;  rejoice  evermore.  It  is  the 
joy  of  having  found  God  that  lies  below  the  sad- 
ness of  having  offended  him  and  the  complete  re- 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  41 

newal  of  our  life.  He  who  has  found  a  treasure 
in  a  field  has  such  joy,  according  to  Jesus  Christ, 
that  he  sells  all  that  he  may  buy  it.  The  people 
of  the  world  have  their  own  sadness,  and  they 
have  not  that  joy  that  the  world  can  neither  give 
nor  take  away,  says  Jesus  Christ  himself. 

Let  us  not  then  give  way  to  sadness,  nor  be- 
lieve that  piety  consists  only  in  a  bitterness  with- 
out consolation.  A  true  religion,  such  as  is  found 
complete  only  in  heaven,  is  so  full  of  satisfactions, 
that  its  beginning,  its  progress,  and  its  goal  is 
filled  and  crowned  by  them.  It  is  a  brilliant 
light  which  it  sheds  on  all  that  belongs  to  it.  Is 
there  any  sadness  mingled  with  it,  and  especially 
in  its  beginning,  it  is  from  us  that  it  rises,  and 
not  from  goodness  itself;  for  it  is  not  the  effect 
of  the  piety  dawning  in  us,  but  of  the  impiety  that 
lingers  with  us  still.  Remove  the  impiety,  and 
the  joy  will  be  without  stain.  —  Pascal. 

One  of  the  most  persuasive,  if  not  the  strongest, 
arguments  for  a  future  state  rests  on  the  belief, 
that,  although  by  the  necessity  of  things  our  out- 
ward and  temporal  welfare  must  be  regulated  by 
our  outward  actions,  which  alone  can  be  the  ob- 
jects and  guides  of  human  law,  there  must  yet 
needs  come  a  juster  and  more  appropriate  sen- 
tence hereafter,  in  which  our  intentions  will  be 
considered  and  our  happiness  and  misery  made 

4* 


42  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

to  accord  with  the  grounds  of  our  actions.  Our 
fellow-creatures  can  only  judge  what  we  are  by 
what  we  do ;  but  in  the  eye  of  our  Maker  what 
we  do  is  of  no  worth,  except  as  it  flows  from 
what  we  are.  Though  the  fig-tree  should  pro- 
duce no  visible  fruit,  yet  if  the  living  sap  is  in  it, 
and  if  it  has  struggled  to  put  forth  buds  and 
blossoms  which  have  been  prevented  from  matur- 
ing by  inevitable  contingencies  of  tempests  or 
untimely  frosts,  the  virtuous  sap  will  be  account- 
ed as  fruit,  and  the  curse  of  barrenness  will  light 
on  many  a  tree  from  the  boughs  of  which  hun- 
dreds have  been  satisfied,  because  the  Omnis- 
cient Judge  knows  that  the  fruits  were  threaded 
to  the  boughs  artificially  by  the  outward  work- 
ings of  base  fear  and  selfish  hopes,  and  were  nei- 
ther nourished  by  the  love  of  God  or  man,  nor 
grew  out  of  the  graces  engrafted  on  the  stock  by 
religion.  —  Coleridge. 


THE  RHODODENDRONS.  43 


CHRIST'S  LOVE  TO  US  AN  EXAMPLE  FOR  OUR  LOVE 
TO  OUR  BRETHREN. 

FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  A.  THOLUCK. 

Think  of  the  Son  of  God  and  man,  whom  the 
sea  and  the  powers  of  nature  obeyed, — to  what 
did  he  turn  the  omnipotence  of  his  powers  ?  To 
establish  a  glorious  kingdom  ?  To  collect  all  the 
splendor  and  all  the  riches  of  the  earth  around 
himself?  Imagine  that  you  should  be  gifted 
some  time  with  such  a  power,  that  could  rule 
heaven  in  its  heights,  and  the  abysses  in  their 
depths,  —  should  you,  my  brother,  turn  it  to  such 
purposes  as  the  Saviour  did  ?  Would  this  be 
nearest  to  your  heart, — to  go  up  and  down  in  the 
midst  of  the  want  and  the  misery  of  the  children 
of  men,  to  show  this  divine,  wondrous  power  in 
the  healing  of  their  infirmities  ?  Would  this  be 
the  joy  oiyour  life,  too, — to  walk  among  the  blind, 
the  deaf,  the  palsied,  to  become  their  Saviour  and 
their  helper  ?  0  where  is  there  a  heart  like  the 
heart  of  Jesus  !  His  work  was  love,  — love  flowed 
from  the  hem  of  his  garment.  Christians,  be- 
hold what  a  man  was  he  !  Yet  what  helps  it, 
if  the  eye  of  the  body  becomes  clear  for  the  blind 
man,  while  the  eye  of  the  soul  remains  blind,  — 
that  your  bodily  ear  learns  to  hear  the  words  of 
men,  while  the  spiritual  ear  remains  deaf  to  the 
words  of  God, — that  the  dead  in  the  body  rise  up 


44  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

from  the  dust  of  their  graves,  while  the  spiritual 
sleeper  remains  dead  in  the  death  of  sin  ?  It  is 
said  of  him,  "  that  he  was  moved  with  compassion 
that  the  multitude  had  no  bread."  0,  far  more 
is  he  moved  when  he  sees  that  the  world  has  not 
the  bread  of  life  !  How  did  he  go  about  to  seek 
and  to  save  that  which  was  lost!  Look  with 
what  company  do  you  find  him  surrounded,  the 
holy  one  and  pure  of  God  ?  Again  and  again 
you  read,  "  with  publicans  and  sinners. "  "With 
the  outcast,  with  the  abandoned  of  the  people, 
with  just  these  does  he  take  up  his  abode.  0 
how  earnestly  did  he  woo  each  single  soul,  that 
he  might  not  lose  one  of  them  that  his  Father 
had  given  him!  "What  man  is  there  among 
you,"  he  says,  "  having  a  hundred  sheep,  if  he 
lose  one  of  them,  doth  not  leave  the  ninety  and 
nine  in  the  wilderness,  and  go  after  that  which 
is  lost  ?  " — away  through  thorns  and  thistles,  over 
the  heights,  through  the  valleys,  till  it  is  found  ; 
and  when  it  is  found,  lie  lays  it  upon  his  shoul- 
ders, and  brings  it  home  with  joy.  Yes,  faithful 
Saviour,  this  is  thy  picture,  which  thou  hast  thyself 
painted !  Yes,  we  know  it,  so  thou  hast  thyself 
sought  for  us,  till  thou  hast  brought  us  home  to 
the  fold  of  thy  Father.  See  him  in  conversation 
with  the  Samaritan  woman,  who  of  us  would  have 
persevered  with  this  very  poor,  very  darkened 
soul  ?  He  offers  her  living  water,  and  she  thinks 
of  the  water  of  the  well  that  stands  before  her. 


THE   RHODODENDRONS.  45 

But  how  he  draws  near  her,  how  he  penetrates  the 
depths  of  her  soul !  See  how  he  labors  with  a 
Peter,  till  the  wavering  reed  is  changed  into  a  rock, 
till  from  his  stirred  soul  presses  the  cry,  "  Lord, 
thou knowest  all  things, — thou  knowest  that  I  love 
thee  !  "  See  how  he  would  have  sued  with  love 
even  the  soul  of  his  betrayer !  So  was  he  when 
he  walked  among  us.  Behold  the  man!  But 
so  too  is  he  now,  since  he  is  glorified  with  the 
Father,  and  the  promise  fulfilled,  "  When  I  am 
lifted  up,  I  shall  draw  all  men  to  me."  You 
who  now  are  wandering  in  his  pastures,  and  who 
in  communion  with  the  Lord  receive  daily  mercy 
upon  mercy,  witness  to  the  world  how  he  has 
drawn  near  to  your  soul,  how  he  has  awakened 
you  and  lifted  you  through  his  Holy  Spirit,  till 
you  at  last  lie  at  his  feet,  crying  that  his  love  has 
conquered,  that,  weeping  bitterly,  you  bend  like  a 
child  at  his  knees.  This  he  has  done  for  thee ; 
what  hast  thou  done  for  him  ? 

Has  he  thus  loved  us,  my  brethren,  how  then 
ought  we,  following  his  example,  love  our  broth- 
ers? 

The  first  thing  for  us  also,  before  we  do  any- 
thing for  the  need  of  our  brethren,  is  that  we 
must  suffer  with  them,  and  before  we  suffer  with 
them  we  must  know  their  want  and  misery. 
Only  the  wants  of  the  body,  these  we  can  easily 
acquaint  ourselves  with  ;  for  who  is  there  who 
feels  them  not  himself?     But  the  need  of  the  hu- 


46  A    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

man  soul !  If  you  have  yet  known  nothing  of 
the  need  of  the  soul,  the  need  of  the  soul  is  per- 
haps for  many  a  wholly  new  -thought !  It  will 
first  dawn  upon  you  when  you  have  learnt  to-  un- 
derstand that  little  word  sin.  There  must  have 
come  in  your  own  life  hours  when,  in  the  light 
of  divine  truth,  your  own  self-righteousness  has 
appeared  to  you  like  a  spotted  garment,  —  when 
with  trembling  you  have  perceived  that,  if  we  are 
judged  according  to  our  works,  no  flesh  will 
stand  upright  before  God.  You  must  feel  your 
own  fetters,  you  must  know  of  those  tears  which 
spring  from  a  longing  for  spiritual  freedom,  you 
must  look  into  the  abyss  of  your  own  heart. 

But,  my  brother,  do  you  belong  to  the  class 
whom  the  Saviour  pronounces  blessed,  —  to  the 
poor  in  spirit  ?  Then  you  will  not  merely  be  able 
to  suffer,  but  you  must  suffer  with  the  need  of 
the  soul  of  sinful  men.  You  see  the  broad  street 
of  which  the  Saviour  says  that  it  leads  to  de- 
struction. Large,  gay  bands  enter  upon  it,  and 
in  the  ear  of  your  soul  sounds  the  heart-rending 
echoing  shout  of  joy  of  some,  with  the  heart- 
rending cry  of  sorrow  from  others  ;  it  sounds  upon 
your  heart  when  first  your  loving  glance  has 
fallen  upon  the  needs  of  humanity ;  upon  your 
heart  there  lies  as  upon  the  heart  of  the  Saviour 
a  world  of  woe ;  your  soul  is  unspeakably  sor- 
rowful, and  you  fain  would  help. 

Who  among  you  feels  his  heart  so  pressed  by 


THE   RHODODENDRONS.  47 

the  need  of  his  brother  ?  I  know  it  well,  —  so 
long  as  you  do  not  feel  your  own  need,  you  cannot 
sympathize  with  the  need  of  your  brother ;  and 
who  is  there  who  will  confess  the  wounds  of  his 
own  heart  ?  Alas  !  most  men  pass  by  the  plain- 
tive cry  of  suffering  humanity,  and  close  their 
ears  that  they  may  not  hear  it.  History  tells  us 
of  an  Asiatic  prince  who,  that  he  might  never 
more  see  the  boundless  misery  of  his  suffering 
subjects,  shut  himself  up  for  ever  in  his  palace, 
extinguished  the  light  of  day,  and  by  the  glow 
of  lamps,  forgetting  the  misery  that  was  without, 
went  on  gayly  to  his  end.  Such  as  he  are  you 
who  until  this  hour  have  never  felt  the  need  of 
suffering  humanity,  not  even  your  own !  Can 
you  then  so  completely  forget  the  tears  of  your 
Saviour,  that  he  wept  for  all  humanity  and  for 
you? 

Yet  from  our  Lord  has  come  to  us,  not  merely 
an  example  of  how  we  should  suffer  with  our 
brethren,  but  how  we  should  help  them.  "  Even 
as  he  walked,"  said  John,  "  ought  we  also  to 
walk  in  the  world."  0  you  who  have  not  yet 
learnt  precisely  what  your  vocation  is  in  life, 
would  you  take  up  a  glorious  vocation,  blessed 
beyond  all  measure  ?  "As  he  walked  in  the 
world,  so  also  ought  you  to  walk  "  ;  as  he  went 
round  among  the  sick  and  the  poor  of  the  earth, 
so  also  should  you.  It  is  true  you  cannot  say  to 
the  blind,  See  !  nor  to  the  lame,  Arise  and  walk  ! 


48  A   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

But  to  each  one  of  you  lias  the  goodness  of  God 
given  many  gifts,  that  you  might  be  a  preserving 
angel  in  the  bodily  wants  of  your  brethren.  The 
more  our  love  grows,  the  more  do  we  perceive 
our  power  to  help.  If  in  the  beginning  it  seems 
to  you  that  no  gifts  are  lent  you  for  your  sorrow- 
ing brethren,  0,  believe  me,  the  eye  of  love  only 
fails  you ;  with  your  love  your  power  increases. 
And  have  )Tou  in  the  end  nothing  to  give  but  the 
word  of  counsel  and  of  consolation,  and  the  silent, 
sympathizing  pressure  of  the  hand,  and  if  you 
think  that  this  is  nothing  for  your  sorrowing 
brethren,  then  you  have  never  suffered  yourself. 
But  granting  that  there  were  no  power  lent  you 
to  dry  the  tears  of  your  brother  that  are  shed  for 
the  sorrows  of  this  world,  yet  arise,  since  it  is 
in  your  hands  there  rests  the  power  to  help  the 
need  of  his  soul.  "  Peter,"  said  the  Lord  to  his 
wavering  disciple,  "  when  thou  art  converted, 
strengthen  thy  brethren."  "  Simon  Peter,  lovest 
thou  me,  feed  my  sheep."  O  you  who  know  how 
long  Christ  the  Lord  waited  for  you  with  long- 
suffering  and  with  patience,  until  from  the  weak 
Simon,  poor  in  faith,  came  forth  a  Cephas,  a  man 
of  rock,  to  you  are  these  words  directed.  Did 
the  Good  Shepherd  go  forth  into  the  mountains 
and  through  the  wilderness  till  he  brought  you 
home,  who  would  not  also  go  forth  for  his  wander- 
ing brethren  ?  "  This  I  have  done  for  thee ;  what 
wilt  thou  do  for  me  ?  " 


THE  SECOND   STOEMY   SUNDAY. 

THE  SURE  WALL. 


"  God.  when  he  takes  my  goods  and  chattels  hence, 
Gives  me  a  portion,  giving  patience. 
What  is  in  God  is  God ;  if  so  it  be 
He  patience  gives,  he  gives  himself  to  me." 

Herri  ck. 


THE  SECOND  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

THE  SURE  WALL. 

I  stood  by  the  window  this  morning  and  looked 
out.  It  had  been  storming  heavily  through  the 
night,  and  I  had  heard  the  wind  blustering  loudly. 
But  all  was  still  in  the  morning.  Slowly  and 
quietly  the  snow  was  falling.  Across  the  path- 
way from  the  door  lay  heavy  drifts  of  snow,  and 
over  these  fresh  snow  fell.  It  fell  like  a  white 
mist,  shutting  out  the  distant  landscape,  like  a 
white  curtain  that  shielded  my  window.  Now 
and  then  I  could  trace  the  softened  outline  of  dis- 
tant snow-covered  hills,  and  then  the  veil  would 
close  around  me  again.  There  was  something 
very  impressive  in  the  quiet  and  the  solitude.  A 
sense  of  protection  came  over  me,  as  I  felt  myself 
shut  in  by  this  silently  falling  barrier.  It  all 
recalled  to  me  a  story  I  had  read,  which  I 
cannot  bring  back  clearly,  but  I  can  retrace  its 
impression. 

It  was  a  story  of  the  sad  times  when  the  great 


52  THE   SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

French  army  was  making  its  retreat  from  Mos- 
cow. In  a  poor,  low  cottage,  in  a  little  village, 
was  lying  an  invalid  boy.  This  village  lay  in  the 
course  of  the  retreating  army,  and  already  the 
reports  of  its  approach  had  reached  the  terrified 
inhabitants.  In  their  turn,  they  began  to  make 
their  preparations  for  retreat,  for  they  knew 
there  was  no  hope  for  them  from  the  hands  of  the 
great  moving  mass  of  soldiery,  which 'was  seeking 
its  own  preservation,  was  reckless  in  its  demands, 
and  gave  no  quarter.  Every  one  who  had  the 
strength  to  fly,  fled,  some  trying  to  take  with 
them  their  worldly  goods,  some  to  conceal  them. 
The  little  village  was  fast  growing  deserted. 
Some  burnt  their  houses  or  dismantled  them. 
The  old  were  placed  in  wagons,  and  the  young 
hurried  their  families  away  with  them. 

But  in  the  little  cottage  there  was  none  of  this 
bustle.  The  poor  crippled  boy  could  not  move 
from  his  bed.  The  widowed  mother  had  no 
friends  near  enough  to  spare  a  thought  for  her  in 
this  hurrying  time  of  trouble,  when-  every  one 
thought  only  of  those  nearest  to  him  and  of  him- 
self. What  chance  in  flight  was  there  for  her 
and  her  young  children,  and  a  poor  crippled  boy ! 

It  was  evening,  and  the  sound  of  distant  voices 
and  of  preparation  had  died  away.  The  poor 
boy  was  wakeful  with  terror,  now  urging  his 
mother  to  leave  him  to  his  fate,  now  dreading 


THE   SURE   WALL.  53 

lest  she  should  take  him  at  his  word  and  leave 
him  behind. 

"  The  neighbors  are  just  going  away  ;  I  hear 
them  no  longer,"  he  said.  "  I  am  so  selfish,  I 
have  kept  you  here.  Take  the  little  girls  with 
you ;  it  is  not  too  late.  And  I  am  safe ;  who  will 
hurt  a  poor,  helpless  boy  ?  " 

"  We  are  all  safe,"  answered  the  mother ;  "G-od 
will  not  leave  us,  though  all  else  forsake  us." 

"  But  what  can  help  us  ? "  persisted  the  boy. 
"  Who  can  defend  us  from  their  cruelty  ?  Such 
stories  as  I  have  heard  of  the  ravages  of  these 
men  !  They  are  not  men,  they  are  wild  beasts. 
0,  why  was  I  made  so  weak,  —  so  weak  as  to 
be  ^utterly  useless  !  No  strength  to  defend,  no 
strength  even  to  fly  !  " 

"  There  is  a  sure  wall  for  the  defenceless," 
answered  his  mother ;  "  God  will  build  us  up  a 
sure  wall." 

"You  are  my  strength  now,"  said  the  boy;  "I 
thank  God  that  you  did  not  desert  me.  I  am  so 
weak,  I  cling  to  you.  Do  not  leave  me  indeed  ! 
I  fancy  I  can  see  the  cruel  soldiers"  hurrying  in. 
We  are  too  'poor  to  satisfy  them,  and  they  would 
pour  their  vengeance  upon  us  !  And  yet  you 
ought  to  leave  me  !  What  right  have  I  to  keep 
you  here  ?  And  I  shall  suffer  more  if  I  see  you 
suffer." 

"  God  will  be  our  refuge  and  defence,"  still 

5* 


54  THE  SECOND   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

said  the  mother ;  and  at  length,  with  low,  quiet- 
ing words,  she  stilled  the  anxious  boy,  till  he 
too  slept,  like  his  sisters.  The  morning  came  of 
the  day  that  was  to  bring  the  dreaded  enemy. 
The  mother  and  children  opened  their  eyes  to 
find  that  a  "sure  wall"  had  indeed  been  built 
for  their  defence.  The  snow  had  begun  to  fall 
the  evening  before.  Through  the  night  it  had 
collected  rapidly.  A  high  wind  had  blown  the 
snow  in  drifts  against  the  low  house,  so  that  it 
had  entirely  covered  it.  A  low  shed  behind  pro- 
tected the  way  to  the  outhouse  where  the  animals 
were,  and  for  a  few  days  the  mother  and  her  chil- 
dren kept  themselves  alive  within  their  cottage, 
shut  in  and  concealed  by  the  heavy  barricades  of 
snow. 

It  was  during  that  time  that  the  dreaded 
scourge  passed  over  the  village.  Every  house  was 
ransacked ;  all  the  wealthier  ones  deprived  of 
their  luxuries,  and  the  poorer  ones  robbed  of  their 
necessities.  But  the  low-roofed  cottage  lay  shel- 
tered beneath  its  wall  of  snow  which  in  the  silent 
night  had  gathered  around  it.  God  had  protect- 
ed the  defenceless  with  a  "  sure  wall." 

A  silently  falling  snow  often  recalls  to  me  this 
story.  It  shuts  me  in  as  if  it  were  trying  to  pro- 
tect me  from  outer  enemies.  And  to-day  its  con- 
trast has  seemed  especially  opposed  to  the  busy* 
week  that  has  gone  before. 


THE   SURE  WALL.  55 

Another  stormy  Sunday,  and  I  have  been 
again  alone.  George  is  in  New  York.  Joanna, 
with  the  perseverance  of  those  of  her  faith,  ven- 
tured to  her  church  in  the  storm,  but  I  did  not 
dare  to  face  it.  All  the .  plans  that  I  formed 
yesterday  with  regard  to  going  to  church  were 
changed  by  this  unexpected  storm,  and  I  pre- 
pared myself  again  for  a  solitary  worship. 

I  felt  as  if  a  new  temple  had  been  built  around 
me  of  the  snow ;  as  if  I  ought  to  shut  out  from  it 
every  impure  and  unworthy  thought ;  as  if  an 
Infinite  Being  were  sheltering  me.  I  tried  to 
still  within  me  all  discordant  ambitions,  that  I 
might  be  in  tune  with  the  silence  of  the  day. 
To-day  there  has  been  no  sound  of  the  whistle  of 
the  steam-engine  trying  to  force  its  way  through 
the  snow-drifts.  Even  the  distant  church-bells 
could  not  be  heard  through  the  deadening  snow. 
I  have  not  had  so  quiet  a  day  since  last  Sunday. 
All  has  been  turmoil  and  bustle,  and  I  have  had 
little  time  to  think  over  my  good  resolutions. 

I  again  invented  for  myself  a  series  of  solitary 
services,  to  occupy  some  of  the  quiet  hours  of  the 
day.  I  read,  devoutly  and  thoughtfully,  prayer 
and  hymn  and  sermon.  In  my  lonely  temple  I 
tried  to  realize  the  close  presence  of  the  Most 
High. 

It  seemed  indeed  a  very  lonely,  solitary  ser- 
vice.    I  missed  the  sound  of  human  voice.     It 


56  THE  SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

was  very  impressive  to  me,  yet  after  a  while  the 
silence  seemed  too  deep.  After  my  soul  had 
offered  its  silent  worship,  I  longed  to  give  praise 
with  my  voice  too,  or  to  listen  to  the  praising 
voices  of  others.  I  thought  of  the  glorious  music 
that  accompanies  the  words,  "  I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth ! "  and  I  wished  that  I  had 
the  power  to  express  such  faith,  in  such  grand 
changes  of  harmony.  I  called  back  to  memory 
the  wonderful  voice  that  once  had  sung  these 
words  to  me  with  convincing  power ;  but  mem- 
ory brought  them  back  silently,  —  there  was  no 
sound.  I  opened  the  piano  and  tried  to  hear, 
in  the  changing  chords  of  the  Prayer  from  Moses 
in  Egypt,  the  varying  voices  of  a  congregation. 
And  then  I  went  back  to  silence  again,  to  kneel 
before  God. 

The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd,  I  shall  not  want. 
He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures,  he 
leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters. 

He  restoreth  my  soul ;  he  leadeth  me  in  the 
paths  of  righteousness  for  his  name's  sake. 

Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for  Thou  art 
with  me  ;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me. 

Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me  in  the  pres- 
ence of  mine  enemies  ;  Thou  anointest  my  head 
with  oil ;  my  cup  runneth  over. 


THE   SURE  WALL.  57 

Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me  all 
the  days  of  my  life  ;  and  I  will  dwell  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord  for  ever. 

I  have  to  recall  the  failure  of  my  resolutions 
that  I  formed  in  the  quiet  of  my  last  silent  Sun- 
day. I  have  to  remember  the  passage  of  anoth- 
er week  that  has  gone  back  to  join  many  others 
as  profitless. 

How  different  will  be  our  estimate  of  time,  — 
the  time  that  we  have  lived  through,  —  when  we 
shall  reach  the  world  that  is  no  longer  so  meas- 
ured! Memory  now  is  dazzled  by  the  present. 
Then  we  shall  make  a  truer  judgment  of  the 
worth  of  past  events.  In  looking  back  upon  a 
past  week,  now,  we  are  scarcely  able  to  judge 
which  of  our  acts  had  itself  a  real  worth.  We 
look  back  with  a  sort  of  exultation  upon  some 
three  hours'  labor,  that  seems  to  us  worthy  of 
great  praise.  It  may  not,  then,  count  so  much 
to  us  as  one  moment's  patience,  or,  alas !  a  mo- 
ment's impatience.  A  hasty  word  or  glance  that 
broke  forth  from  a  moment  of  impatience  will 
not  merely  leave  its  impression  on  the  moment 
that  follows,  but  on  the  eternity  in  which  we 
shall  have  time  to  recall  it. 

We  do  not  show  our  value  of  time  by  sitting 
down  to  count  its  sands  as  they  pass,  nor  by 
regretting  those  that  have  past.     We  may  make 


58  THE   SECOND   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

the  moment  that  lies  in  our  hand  of  value  to  our- 
selves or  to  others.  We  may  waste  it,  by  wait- 
ing, to  wonder  what  we  shall  do  with  it.  We 
cannot  throw  it  away.  Most  frequently  it  comes 
to  us  labelled  with  its  own  duty  or  purpose ;  it 
needs  only  our  earnestness  to  read  this  rightly 
and  act  upon  it.  Its  value,  of  course,  rests  only 
in  the  way  we  use  it.  We  cannot  yet  judge, 
ourselves,  whether  this  will  be  because  we  have 
enjoyed  that  moment  most,  the  sky  and  wayside 
flower ;  or  because  we  have  helped  that  mo- 
ment a  sufferer,  shut  up  in  a  close  street,  out  of 
reach  of  air  or  joy ;  or  because  we  have  that 
moment  conquered  some  secret  enemy  of  our 
heart,  trampled  down  an  evil  passion,  or  turned 
away  from  some  sorrow  in  our  own  soul,  to  join 
the  happy  chorus  there  is  in  God's  creation. 
God,  who  has  created  a  time  for  all  things,  knows 
best.  We  cannot  judge.  Yet  at  times  we  are 
supported  by  a  courageous  feeling  at  heart,  thab 
shows  us  when  we  have  done  the  right  thing  at 
the  right  time.  And  at  other  times,  we  look  back 
with  a  penetrating  glance,  and  see  more  clearly 
than  when  the  hour  was  passing,  —  see,  sometimes 
with  a  shudder,  when  we  have,  and  when  we  have 
not,  acted  simply,  purely,  and  nobly.  We  see 
whether  we  have  taken  the  gift  of  the  moment 
joyfully  and  solemnly; — joyfully,  because  it  is  a 
gift;  solemnly,  because  it  is  a  gift  of  God's. 


THE   SURE  WALL.  59 

SERMON. 

"  But,  beloved,  be  not  ignorant  of  this  one  thing,  that  one  day  is 
with  the  Lord  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one 
day."  — 2  Peter  hi.  8. 

There  seems  to  be  a  contradiction  in  this  state- 
ment, and  yet  we  immediately  see  how  it  is  rec- 
onciled. 

We  cannot  understand  the  meaning  of  the 
words  to  be,  that  God  beholds  with  serene  indif- 
ference all  the  fluctuations  in  the  ever-swelling 
tide  of  earth's  joys  and  sorrows.  We  cannot  un- 
derstand by  the  statement,  that  a  day  or  a  thousand 
years  are  alike  nothing  to  God ;  for  this  would  be 
the  same  as  declaring  that  the  events  with  which 
a  day  or  a  century  is  crowned  are  nothing  to  him, 
which  would  amount  to  the  same  as  saying  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  Divine  Providence. 

We  obviously  understand,  however,  from  our 
text,  that,  by  the  Eternal  Being,  events  and  ac- 
tions are  not  measured  according  to  the  length  of 
time  which  they  occupy,  but  according  to  their 
moral  significance  ;  not  by  their  duration,  but  by 
their  quality. 

It  is  upon  the  same  principle  that  money  is 
weighed  in  the  scales  of  divine  wisdom.  It  is  not 
the  vast  amount  which  sinks  down  the  scale ;  it 
is  the  two  mites  devoted  to  his  cause  by  one  who, 
when  they  are  bestowed,  has  nothing  left  but  faith 


60  THE  SECOND   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

in  his  God's  protection.  She  is  the  rich  person 
in  God's  eye  who  has  the  wealth  of  heart  to 
make  such  a  sacrifice,  while  he  who,  even  out  of 
the  abundance  that  he  hath,  refuses  to  give  back 
aught  to  the  great  Being  from  whom  he  has 
received  all,  as  he  is  seen  from  the  battlements  of 
heaven,  appears  stricken  with  poverty,  covered 
with  rags. 

And  so  in  regard  to  time.  Those  ancient  dy- 
nasties whose  power  has  reached  through  long 
•centuries,  handed  down  from  father  to  son, — men 
say  of  them,  What  a  noble  family  !  how  glorious 
to  be  the  founder  of  a  race  who  should  hold  the 
throne  for  a  thousand  years !  Glorious !  How 
much  longer  in  its  influence  than  many  such 
thousands  of  years,  was  that  one  day  on  which, 
in  Judaea,  that  meek  sufferer  laid  down  his  life 
for  his  friends !  And  how  must  it  have  appeared 
to  the  Infinite  Mind,  who  sees  the  end  from  the 
beginning!  And  how  much  more  space  in  the 
chronicle  of  eternity  must  one  day  which  records 
the  self-denying  love  of  some  unknown  follower 
of  Jesus  occupy,  than  the  thousand  years'  history 
of  some  line  of  pampered  monarchs ! 

Let  us  then  bear  in  mind,  that  mere  duration 
does  not  appear  to  God  as  it  does  to  us ;  that  he  is 
not  oppressed  by  the  contemplation  of  vast  peri- 
ods of  time,  nor  unable  rightly  to  estimate  the 
opportunities  of  good  provided  for  his  children  in 
one  small  day. 


THE   SURE  WALL.  61 

The  passage  of  Scripture  which  we  are  consid- 
ering contains  its  own  divisions,  and  these  let  us 
seek  to  follow. 

First,  "  one  day  is  with  the  Lord  as  a  thousand 
years."  How  awful  is  the  thought !  How  sig- 
nificantly it  forces  on  us  the  great  idea  of  oppor- 
tunity !  For  we  are  not  to  understand  thereby 
that  God,  by  special  creative  acts,  can  do  in  one 
day  the  slow  work  of  a  thousand  years,  or  intro- 
duce at  once  new  orders  of  creatures  into  exist- 
ence, which  thousands  of  years  had  rolled  by 
without  beholding,  but  that,  as  he  looks  upon 
man,  one  day  seems  big  with  results  which  shall 
last  through  countless  centuries.  And  what  a 
reflection !  You  have  discerned  naught  that  is 
unusual  in  the  day ;  you  are  willing  that  it  shall 
leave  you  where  it  shall  find  you ;  but  the  sun,  as 
it  rose  this  morning,  rose  upon  some  who  shall 
do  this  day  the  work  of  a  thousand  years.  Some 
pious  resolution  made  and  kept,  and  the  soul's 
future  life,  here  and  hereafter,  a  new  thing  for 
it ;  some  earnest  counsel  given  by  parent  to 
child,  and  the  child  turning  short  in  his  career, 
and  from  this  day  ever  going  upward,  upward ! 
some  deed  of  Christian  sympathy  performed  in 
the  spirit  of  Him  who  made  it  lawful  to  do 
good  on  the  Sabbath  day,  and  the  dawn  of  hope 
wakened  in  some  despondent  heart,  —  a  dawn  to 
know  no  night !     And  while  you  sit  here,  scarce 

6 


62  THE   SECOND   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

taking  in  the  thought  that  you  are  immortal, 
and  I  speak  as  if  I  forgot  that  this  might  be  the 
last  hour  of  our  worship  to  some  of  us,  there 
are  those  even  now  somewhere  on  the  earth  who 
are  hearing  the  voices  of  the  sanctuary,  as  if 
they  themselves  were  already  in  eternity,  those 
speaking  as  if  they  were  urging  the  great  coun- 
sels of  their  dying  hour.  Sometimes  it  becomes 
plain  in  what  way  the  providence  of  God  may 
seem  to  exalt  one  day  above  a  thousand  years, 
by  giving  it  a  sun  that  never  sets.  Such  a  day 
was  that  in  which  the  great  German  Keformer 
said  to  the  friends  who  predicted  his  bloody  death 
if  he  obeyed  the  summons  of  the  Emperor,  "  If  I 
knew  there  were  as  many  devils  at  Worms  as  tiles 
on  the  houses,  I  would  go."  Such  a  day  was  that 
on  which  a  youthful  nation,  hemmed  in  between 
the  sea  and  the  wilderness,  as  she  broke  from  the 
chains  with  which  a  mighty  kingdom  was  bind- 
ing her,  proclaimed  her  faith  that  all  men  are 
created  equal. 

But  to  see  in  any  common  day,  as  it  passes,  the 
opportunities  of  a  thousand  years, — opportunities 
waiting  for  us  to  improve  them, — is  a  truth  which 
it  seems  harder  to  realize.  With  what  mysterious 
value  it  invests  these  fleeting  moments  !  How 
solemn  a  thing  does  it  seem  to  live  !  Within 
and  around  us,  to  realize  that  there  are  springs 
which,  from  the  motion  we  impress  on  them  in 


THE   SURE   WALL.  63 

one  day,  shall  not  cease  vibrating  for  a  thousand 
years  !  Never  shall  we  do  with  true  fidelity  the 
work  which  God  calls  us  to,  until  we  awake  to 
the  significance  of  a  single  day.  If  we  cannot 
see  the  immortal  uses  which  lie  hidden  in  one 
day,  we  shall  not  be  likely  to  see  those  which  lie 
hidden  in  many.  We  may  speak  of  the  dignity 
of  human  nature ;  but  if,  as  we  fasten  our  thoughts 
upon  one  human  soul,  we  see  no  boundless  ca- 
pacities in  it,  our  faith  in  the  capacities  of  the 
race  will  hardly  be  a  solid  and  animating  one. 
And  so,  whenever  we  despise  to-day,  let  us  cease 
talking  about  the  opportunities  of  life,  let  us  give 
over  dreaming  of  the  great  things  which  we  shall 
do,  "  when  we  come  to  them." 

We  sometimes  go  through  a  series  of  events  in 
one  day  which  make  it  a  long  and  memorable 
one  in  our  lives.  What  a  day  that  must  have 
been  to  the  inmates  of  that  vessel  which,  not 
many  years  since,  you  may  remember,  within 
sight  of  our  coasts  was  dragging  her  anchor,  for 
eleven  hours,  through  the  wild  waters  and  the 
grating  rocks !  How  must  the  thoughts,  the 
prayers,  the  anxious  love  of  years,  have  been 
concentrated  into  the  weary  moments  !  And 
when  that  great  anchor  of  the  soul,  once  so  sure 
and  steadfast,  no  longer  holds  us  firm,  —  when  that 
drags  heavily,  displaced  by  the  shock  of  succes- 
sive fears,  though  they  be  condensed  within  the 
compass  of  hours,  —  how  the  anxious,  throbbing 


64  THE  SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

life  of  years  is  crowded  into  such  a  day !  Is  it 
so  ?  Can  a  messenger  of  God's  afflictive  provi- 
dence thus  stay  the  flight  of  time,  so  that  the 
sun  seems  to  stand  still  on  Gibeon,  and  the  moon 
in  the  valley  of  Ajalon  ?  And  shall  the  work 
with  which  life  is  full,  the  soul's  immortal  desti- 
ny, the  hourly  blessings  which  God  is  dispensing, 
be  never  enough  to  bid  it  pause  in  our  earthly 
distractions?  Shall  we  measure  the  length  of 
the  day  only  by  the  worldly  excitements  through 
which  we  rush,  or  by  the  tide  of  calamity  which 
may  set  in  upon  us,  and  never  by  any  deep,  ear- 
nest meditations  upon  the  great  fact  of  our  exist- 
ence, the  solemn  thought  of  our  accountability, 
the  tremendous  nature  of  the  responsibilities 
which  each  single,  solitary  day  as  it  passes  sum- 
mons us  manfully  to  meet  ?  0,  let  us  be  more 
intent,  in  this  seed-time  of  our  being,  to  permit 
each  day  to  teem  with  the  promise  of  its  thou- 
sand years'  harvest  in  a  bright  eternity  ! 

And  now  let  us  turn  to  the  second  division  of 
our  subject.  "  Beloved,  be  not  ignorant  of  one 
thing,  that  one  day  is  with  the  Lord  as  a  thou- 
sand years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day." 

A  thousand  years  as  one  day  !  How  full  of 
significance  also  is  this  reflection  !  Think  of  an 
existence  to  whose  eternal  being  the  thousands 
of  years  in  the  past,  and  those  concealed  from 
our  eyes  in  the  future,  appear  as  but  brief  days ! 
Consider,  too,  that  it  is  your  destiny  as  an  im- 


THE   SURE  WALL.  65 

mortal  creature  to  see  at  length  the  period  when 
a  thousand  years  shall  flit  again  before  your  mem- 
ory as  but  a  day  !  And  what  profiting  thought 
shall  we  deduce  from  the  reflection  ? 

Do  we  not  see,  first,  in  a  clearer  light,  the  true 
nature  of  our  earthly  discipline  ?  A  thousand 
years  but  one  day !  Yet,  when  such  a  day  comes 
back  upon  the  soul's  vision,  what  is  there  to  leave 
an  impress  but  the  leading  thought,  the  ruling 
purpose,  which  guided  its  long  procession  of 
fiours?  Could  we  but  live  more  from  week  to 
week  in  the  anticipation  of  that  period  when  we 
shall  measure  time  only  by  its  results  as  left 
upon  the  character,  we  should  not  suffer  our- 
selves to  be  so  disquieted  about  things  which 
ought  to  tempt  superior  intelligences  to  imagine 
that  we  believe  we  are  but  creatures  of  a  day ! 
How  our  varying  duties  and  pleasures  assume 
their  true  place,  as  we  mark  off  our  undying  life 
by  hundreds  and  by  thousands  of  years !  What 
we  wore,  what  we  ate,  the  flattery  we  received, 
the  money  we  accumulated,  how  shall  we  find 
space  to  dwell  upon  these  beguiling  circum- 
stances of  our  earthly  being,  in  the  period  when, 
to  memory,  hundreds  of  years  are  condensed  into 
hours  ?  Look  back  even  from  your  point  of  view 
to-day,  look  back  ten  years,  and  could  you  see 
again  daguerreotyped  with  unerring  minuteness 
upon  your  mind  the  little  sources  of  annoyance 

6* 


66  THE  SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

which  from  day  to  day  disturbed  your  peace,  you 
would  scarcely  believe  that  the  picture  were  a 
true  one ;  you  would  look  upon  it  with  the  com- 
passion which  the  heart-breaking  sobs  of  a  child 
over  the  destruction  of  some  plaything  of  the 
hour  might  excite.  How  could  I,  you  would 
say,  have  anticipated  so  much  unhappiness  from 
that  transient  cause  of  uneasiness  ?  Did  I  be- 
lieve that  to  be  vexed  by  that  disquietude  of  a 
week  was  the  sole  end  and  purpose  of  God's 
calling  me  into  being  ?  And  yet  these  thoughts, 
these  rebellious  emotions  which  come  back  before 
me,  would  make  it  seem  as  if  I  must  almost  have 
believed  it. 

But  just  so  unworthy  to  engross  your  mind 
will  the  petty  cares  anci  vexations  which  cast 
their  uneasy  shadow  over  your  brow  now  appear, 
as  you  look  back  on  them  ten  and  twenty  years 
hence.  How  much  more  so,  as  you  look  back 
upon  this  short  day  of  earth  from  the  mysterious 
ages  of  eternity  ! 

In  the  second  place,  the  reflection  that  with 
the  Lord  a  thousand  years  are  but  as  one  day,  is 
adapted  to  inspire  hope  and  courage  in  our  en- 
deavors to  fulfil  our  Christian  duty.  Long  and 
painful,  at  times,  seem  the  efforts  we  need  con- 
tinually to  renew  in  order  to  subdue  an  evil  pro- 
pensity, hopeless  almost  our  attempts  in  any  wise 
to  catch  the  spirit  of  Christ's  disinterested  love. 
But  what  of  the  pains  and  the  toil,  with  an  enter- 


THE  SURE  WALL.  67 

prise  in  view  so  enduring  ?  When  the  years  of 
life's  pilgrimage  retire  into  their  true  proportions 
as  compared  with  eternity,  and  appear  but  as 
one  day,  who  will  then  count  the  moments  ex- 
pended in  a  brave  struggle  with  his  self-indul- 
gence, who  lament  that  he  did  not  more  eagerly 
follow  deceitful  phantoms  by  the  wayside  ? 

The  two  branches  of  our  subject  are  indissolu- 
bly  intertwined.  "  Beloved,  be  not  ignorant  of 
one  thing,  that  one  day  is  with  the  Lord  as  a 
thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one 
day."  And  how  the  truth  which  thus  harmo- 
nizes in  these  two  statements  ought  to  cheer  those 
who  lament  the  yet  unaccomplished  triumph  of 
many  a  good  cause !  Let  us  take  heart  as  we 
remember  that  God  has  time  in  which  to  accom- 
plish his  will. 

I  commend  the  doctrine  in  the  text  to  those 
engaged  in  the  instruction  of  the  young,  partic- 
ularly those  employed  in  their  religious  instruc- 
tion, and  I  commend  it  to  all  who  bear  part  in 
the  teachings  of  the  Sunday  school.  We  must 
work,  remembering  that  u  one  day  is  as  a  thou- 
sand years,' ' — that  by  speaking  a  word  in  season 
we  may  save  a  soul  from  being  put  back  a  thou- 
sand years ;  and  yet  we  must  be  kept  from  de- 
sponding by  recollecting  that  with  God  a  thou- 
sand years  are  as  one  day,  —  that  results  cannot 
be  always  immediately  seen,  —  that  he  has  other 
means  of  influence  besides  ourselves. 


68  THE  SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 


"  The  eyes  of  them  that  see  shall  not  be  dim ;  and  the  ears  of  them 
that  hear  shall  hearken."  —  Isaiah  xxxii.  3. 


*  Of  the  bright  things  in  earth  and  air 
How  little  can  the  heart  embrace ! 
Soft  shades  and  gleaming  lights  are  there,  • 
I  know  it  well,  but  cannot  trace. 

Mine  eye  unworthy  seems  to  read 

One  page  of  Nature's  beauteous  book  ; 

It  lies  before  me  fair  outspread,  ■— 
I  only  cast  a  wishful  look. 

I  cannot  paint  to  memory's  eye 

The  scene,  the  glance,  I  dearest  love ; 

Unchanged  themselves,  in  me  they  die, 
Or  faint  or  false  their  shadows  prove. 

In  vain,  with  dull  and  tuneless  ear, 

I  linger  by  soft  Music's  cell, 
And  in  my  heart  of  hearts  would  hear 

What  to  her  own  she  deigns  to  tell. 

'T  is  misty  all,  both  sight  and  sound,  — 
I  only  know  't  is  fair  and  sweet ; 

'T  is  wandering  on  enchanted  ground, 
With  dizzy  brow  and  tottering  feet. 

But  patience  !  there  may  come  a  time 
When  these  dull  ears  shall  scan  aright 

*  Keble. 


THE   SURE   WALL.  69 

Strains  that  outring  earth's  drowsy  chime, 
As  heaven  outshines  the  taper's  light. 

These  eyes,  that,  dazzled  now  and  weak, 
At  glancing  motes  in  sunshine  wink, 

Shall  see  the  King's  full  glory  break, 
Nor  from  the  blissful  vision  shrink ;  — 

In  fearless  love  and  hope  uncloyed, 

For  ever  on  that  ocean  bright 
Empowered  to  gaze,  and,  undestroyed, 

Deeper  and  deeper  plunge  in  light. 

Though  scarcely  now  their  laggard  glance 
Reach  to  an  arrow's  flight,  that  day 

They  shall  behold,  and  not  in  trance, 
The  region  "  very  far  away." 

If  Memory  sometimes  at  our  spell 

Refuse  to  speak,  or  speak  amiss, 
We  shall  not  need  her  where  we  dwell, 

Ever  in  sight  of  all  our  bliss. 

Meanwhile,  if  over  sea  or  sky 

Some  tender  lights  unnoticed  fleet, 

Or  on  loved  features  dawn  and  die, 
Unread  to  us,  their  lesson  sweet,  — 

Yet  are  there  saddening  sights  around, 
Which  Heaven  in  mercy  spares  us  too, 

And  we  see  far  in  holy  ground, 
If  duly  purged  our  mortal  view. 


70  THE  SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

The  distant  landscape  draws  not  nigh 
Eor  all  our  gazing,  but  the  soul 

That  upward  looks  may  still  descry, 
Nearer  each  day,  the  brightening  goal. 

And  thou,  too  curious  ear,  that  fain 
Wouldst  thread  the  maze  of  harmony, 

Content  thee  with  one  simple  strain, 
The  lowlier,  sure,  the  worthier  thee ;  — 

Till  thou  art  duly  trained  and  taught 
The  concord  sweet  of  love  divine ; 

Then,  with  that  inward  music  fraught, 
For  ever  rise  and  sing  and  shine. 


THE   SURE   WALL.  71 


A  PRAYER. 


0  thou  eternal  and  unchangeable  God !  the 
same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever ;  thou  who 
appointest  the  changes  of  the  seasons, — the  sun  to 
rule  by  day,  the  moon  and  stars  by  night,  —  wilt 
thou  still,  in  thy  infinite  majesty,  accept  the  offer- 
ing of  praise  from  a  humble  heart  ?  Help  me  to 
draw  near  to  thee,  that  so  I  may  pray  for  what  I 
need,  that  I  may  be  conscious  that  I  am  truly 
near  Him  who  giveth  to  him  that  asketh. 

In  the  blessed  quiet  of  this  day,  wilt  thou  help 
me  to  purify  my  heart.  Lead  me  to  turn  away 
from  all  evil  thoughts,  to  consecrate  myself  to 
thee.  Help  me  so  to  direct  my  thoughts  that 
they  may  strengthen  all  my  principles,  that  they 
may  make  clear  the  way  that  lies  before  me. 
May  I  feel  that  I  am  not  alone,  that  there  is  with 
me  One  higher  than  I  am,  who  can  give  strength 
to  my  weakness. 

Lead  me  in  the  way  that  opens  before  me  the 
coming  week.  Keep  me  from  temptation.  De- 
liver me  from  selfishness,  from  vanity.  Make 
me  more  careful  of  others,  less  thoughtful  of 
myself.  Bless  thou  my  friends  in  their  coming 
and  their  going,  that  we  may  always  be  near 
each  other  in  our  love  for  thee. 

And  let  the  remembrance  of  the  example  of 
Christ  animate  me  to  good  works  and  to  a  holier 


72  THE  SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

life.  I  ask  in  the  name  and  as  the  disciple  of 
Jesus  Christ,  through  whom  I  would  ascribe  all 
honor  and  glory  to  thee. 


I  am  so  often  longing  to  penetrate  into  that 
"  misty  ground,"  that  faith  and  not  sight  must 
enter  upon,  and  to  question  of  that  silent  land 
from  which  no  answer  comes  to  us,  that  to-day  I 
am  going  to  read  a  sermon  of  Bretschneider,  a 
German  preacher,  that  lies  before  me  in  the 
German.  This  volume  of  sermons  discusses  the 
many  questions  concerning  the  future  state, 
and  this  particular  sermon  is  upon  this  subject : 
"  Why  God  has  not  permitted  the  souls  of  the 
dead  to  appear  to  the  living,  in  order  to  raise 
the  question  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  above 
all  doubt?" 


THE   SURE   WALL.  73 


SERMON. 


BY  DR.   K.    G.   BRETSCIINEIDER. 


The  present  alone  shows  itself  clearly  and 
plainly  to  man  ;  the  past  is  dark  to  him,  and  the 
future  concealed  from  him.  The  images  of  our 
own  past  life  with  each  year  disappear  more 
and  more.  One  object  after  another  falls  back 
from  the  light  of  certainty  into  the  duskiness  of 
that  uncertainty  which  spreads  itself  over  all  past 
time,  and  at.  the  point  where  our  consciousness 
for  the  first  time,  like  a  spark  of  light,  illumi- 
nated our  being,  is  lost  in  deep  night.  The 
future  is  still  more  hidden  from  us  than  the  past. 
The  penetration  of  man  can  look  forward,  it  is 
true,  a  very  little  way;  but  this  is  only  a  drop 
in  the  stream  of  future  events,  and  all  foresight 
ends  with  the  grave.  Beyond  this,  everything 
is  hidden  for  us  in  the  deepest  darkness.  We 
shall  live,  we  shall  meet  with  our  reward ;  this 
we  know.  But  no  mortal  eye  has  penetrated 
that  mysterious  land  of  retribution,  and  never, 
never  to  the  dead  has  a  return  to  life  been  per- 
mitted, that  they  might  inform  us  how  it  is  beyond 
the  grave.  For  all  that  credulity  and  supersti- 
tion have  reported,  and  frequently  too,  of  the  re- 
appearance of  the  dead,  has,  on  closer  proof,  been 
found  to  be  either  fraud  or  delusion.     So  fruit- 

7 


74  THE   SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

less  has  this  been,  that  friends  sometimes,  while 
living,  have  made  an  agreement  that  he  who 
should  die  first  should  appear  again  to  the  other, 
or  give  him  some  sign  of  his  continued  existence. 
Yet  never  has  such  a  reappearance  followed  ;  the 
kingdom  of  the  dead  is  fast  closed,  and  no  mor- 
tal breaks  its  mysterious  seal.'  This  the  unbe- 
liever seizes  upon  with  avidity ;  on  this  account 
he  triumphs,  and  laughs  at  the  hope  of  the  believ- 
er, as  a  pleasing  but  groundless  fantasy.  What- 
ever there  is  most  convincing  that  reason,  that 
religion,  has  to  bring  forward,  he  believes  he  can 
overthrow  with  a  single  word.  He  says  boldly, 
that  if  there  were  an  immortality,  at  least  one  of 
the  dead  would  appear  again  upon  earth ;  and  he 
declares  openly  that  he  shall  hold  the  expecta- 
tion of  immortality  as  a  vain  hope,  until  one  of 
the  dead  shall  have  arisen  and  returned  to  the 
land  of  the  living. 

Even  the  good  and  the  believing  cannot,  at 
times,  resist  the  wish  that  the  dead  would  appear 
to  the  living,  to  make  them  certain  of  immortal- 
ity, by  their  appearance  and  assurance  of  it,  and 
to  teach  them  what  is  the  life  after  death.  They 
flatter  themselves  that  unbelief  would  thus  be 
fully  confuted,  every  doubt  overthrown,  the  ne- 
cessity of  a  virtuous  life  incontestably  proved, 
and  a  general  improvement  of  the  human  race 
be  certainly  brought  about.     This,  too,  was  the 


THE   SURE   WALL.  75 

hope  of  the  rich  man  in  the  instructive  parable 
in  to-day's  Gospel.  But  Jesus  refuted  this,  and 
declared  that  neither  the  unbeliever  would  be- 
lieve, nor  the  sinner  lay  aside  his  sin,  even  if  the 
dead  should  appear,  and  could  and  should  preach 
repentance.  To  convince  you  of  this,  my  friends, 
may  be  difficult.  You  believe,  perhaps,  that  such 
appearances  must  needs  bring  about  a  great 
change.  But  in  truth  there  would  be  found 
neither  more  belief  nor  more  virtue.  "We  will 
now  consider  this,  and  for  the  strengthening  of 
our  own  faith,  and  the  weakening  of  such  a  com- 
mon objection  to  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  we 
will  seek  to  convince  ourselves  of  the  truth  of  the 
assurance  of  Jesus. 

"  There  was  a  certain  rich  man,  which  was 
clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  fared  sump- 
tuously every  day ;  and  there  was  a  certain  beg- 
gar named  Lazarus,  which  was  laid  at  his  gate, 
full  of  sores,  and  desiring  to  be  fed  with  the 
crumbs  which  fell  from  the  rich  man's  table  ; 
moreover,  the  dogs  came  and  licked  his  sores. 

"  And  it  came  to  pass  that  the  beggar  died,  and 
was  carried  by  the  angels  into  Abraham's  bosom. 
The  rich  man  also  died  and  was  buried. 

"  And  in  hell  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  being  in  tor- 
ments, and  seeth  Abraham  afar  off,  and  Lazarus 
in  his  bosom.  And  he  cried,  and  said,  Father 
Abraham,  have  mercy  on  me,  and  send  Lazarus, 


76  THE   SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

that  he  may  dip  the  tip  of  his  finger  in  water, 
and  cool  my  tongue  ;  for  I  am  tormented  in  this 
flame. 

"  But  Abraham  said,  Son,  remember  that  thou 
in  thy  lifetime  receivedst  thy  good  things,  and 
likewise  Lazarus  evil  things  ;  but  now  he  is  com- 
forted, and  thou  art  tormented.  And  beside  all 
this,  between  us  and  you  there  is  a  great  gulf 
fixed  ;  so  that  they  which  would  pass  from  hence 
to  you  cannot,  neither  can  they  pass  to  us  that 
would  come  from  thence. 

"  Then  he  said,  I  pray  thee,  therefore,  father, 
that  thou  wouldest  send  him  to  my  father's  house ; 
for  I  have  five  brethren  ;  that  he  may  testify  un- 
to them,  lest  they  also  come  into  this  place  of 
torment. 

"  Abraham  saith  unto  him,  They  have  Moses  and 
the  prophets  ;  let  them  hear  them. 

"  And  he  said,  Nay,  Father  Abraham ;  but  if  one 
went  unto  them  from  the  dead,  they  will  repent. 

"  And  he  said  unto  him,  If  they  hear  not  Moses 
and  the  prophets,  neither  will  they  be  persuaded 
though  one  rose  from  the  dead."* 

This  parable  of  Christ's  is  one  of  the  most 
instructive  found  in  the  Scriptures.  It  de- 
scribes a  luxurious  rich  man,  who  gave  him- 
self up  wholly  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  senses,  and 

*  *  Luke  xvi.  19  -  81. 


THE   SURE  WALL.  77 

who  followed  the  precept :  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink, 
for  to-morrow  we  die."  But  he  found  it  differ- 
ent in  death  from  what  he  expected.  He  had 
five  brothers  as  dissolute  as  himself,  and  given 
up  to  like  evil  ways.  He  begged  that  Lazarus 
might  be  sent  to  them  to  convince  them ;  that  is, 
by  his  appearance  and  his  warning,  convince 
them  of  the  continued  existence  of  the  human 
soul,  and  the  retribution  of  the  good  and  the 
bad,  that  so  they  might  repent.  For  he  had  the 
hope,  that,  at  the  reappearance  of  the  dead  Laza- 
rus, or  any  other  dead  person,  they  would  be  so 
deeply  shaken  that  they  would  reform,  and  be- 
lieve in  eternity.  Yet  Jesus  declared  that  this 
wish  could  never  be  granted,  and  that  its  fulfil- 
ment even  would  be  of  no  advantage.  Certainly 
there  are  not  few  who  wish  that  such  an  appear- 
ance of  the  dead  might  be  possible,  and  who 
believe  that  it  would  have  the  weightiest  conse- 
quences for  the  reformation  of  mankind,  and  the 
confounding  of  unbelief. 

Yet  why  has  God  not  permitted  that  the  souls 
of  the  dead  should  appear  to  the  living,  to  raise 
the  immortality  of  the  soul  above  all  doubt  ? 

Our  Gospel  gives  us  three  reasons  why  God  has 
not  permitted  this,  where  Jesus  has  declared  such 
appearances  to  be,  first,  impossible ;  secondly, 
wholly  superfluous;  and  thirdly,  if  they  were 
allowed,  useless. 
7* 


78  THE   SECOND   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Lord  pronounces  such  an 
appearance  impossible.  For  when  the  rich  man 
expressed  the  wish  that  Lazarus  might  be  sent  to 
him  to  allay  his  sufferings,  he  received  for  an 
answer,  that  there  was  a  great  and  insurmount- 
able gulf  fixed  between  the  souls  of  the  blessed 
and  the  sinful,  —  that  no  one  could  pass  to  the 
other,  but  each  must  remain  in  the  place  that 
God  had  set  apart  for  his  dwelling.  If,  then, 
it  is  true  that  spirits  cannot  leave  the  place 
of  their  reward  or  punishment,  then  it  is  also' 
clear  that  they  cannot  return  to  the  earth,  their 
former  dwelling-place,  nor  appear  to  mortal  eyes 
in  an  invisible  form.  But  what  Jesus  declares 
here  as  impossible,  the  reason  also  recognizes 
when  it  is  turned  earnestly  to  the  subject.* 

It  is,  in  itself,  impossible  that  the  souls  of  the 
dead  should  be  seen  with  our  bodily  eyes.  The 
soul  itself  is  a  spirit,  consequently  is  not  visible 
to  the  eyes  of  the  body.  And  allowing  that  it 
might  be  a  wholly  incorporeal  being,  but  of  the 
finest  matter,  even  then  it  would  still  be  as  in- 
visible to  our  eyes  as  the  air,  the  wind,  and  so 
many  other  invisible,  active  powers  in  nature. 
Thus  souls,  separated  from  their  bodies,  could 
never  become  perceptible  objects,  of  our  senses. 
Did  we  assume  that  the  souls  of  the  dead,  when 
they  entered  the  fields  of  immortality,  were  united 
to  new  bodies,  that  were  recognizable  by  our 


THE   SURE  WALL.  ,     79 

senses,  still  these  bodies,  according  to  the  laws 
of  gravity,  would  be  fettered  to  their  dwelling- 
jplace,  and  could  not  forsake  it  to  return  to  our 
earth.  They  would  be  then  again  in  the  con- 
dition in  which  they  were  placed  here,  where 
they,  on  account  of  their  connection  with  the 
body,  were  fettered  to  this  earth,  and  could  not 
leave  it  to  pass  to  any  other  sphere.  Also,  it 
appears  impossible  that  a  spirit  that  had  passed 
on  to  perfection  should  ever  have  a  desire,  volun- 
tarily, and  from  his  own  impulse,  to  come  back 
to  earth  again,  and  to  enter  again  into  connection 
with  a  world  so  incomplete.  There  are  exceed- 
ingly few  men  who  have  a  desire  to  begin  again 
their  life  upon  earth.  How  could  an  immortal 
have  a  longing  to  return,  —  voluntarily  to  come 
back  to  the  theatre  of  his  earthly  incompleteness  ? 
And  did  he  desire  it,  and  were  it  also  possible 
that  he  could  present  himself  to  our  senses,  let 
us  ask  ourselves  whether  such  a  wandering  upon 
our  earth  can  be  reconciled  with  the  destiny 
allotted  to  the  spirits  of  the  blest,  and  whether 
souls  could  ever  leave  the  state  of  retribution. 

Considered  on  all  sides,  the  reappearance  of 
the  dead  seems  something  impossible.  But,  al- 
lowing that  their  appearing1  on  earth  were  possi- 
ble, yet  the  knowing  them  again  were  impossible. 
We  should  never  be  able  to  convince  ourselves 
that  it  must  really  be  their  persons  that  we  saw. 


80  THE   SECOND   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

We  might  boldly  ask  of  any  one,  who  desires  that 
the  dead  should  appear  again,  to  specify  to  us  in 
what  manner  the  dead  can  and  shall  convince  us 
that  it  is  he  whom  we  have  known  in  life,  and 
through  what  means  he  can  impart  to  us  knowl- 
edge of  his  own  state  and  that  of  the  dead.  It  is 
the  body  by  which  we  recognize  each  other  here ; 
but  the  body  which  the  dead  wore  in  life  is 
mouldering  in  the  grave.  How  could  we  recog- 
nize the  souls  of  our  friends  ?  Perhaps  they 
might  unfold  to  us  some  peculiarities  of  their 
characters.  But  how  insecure  is  such  a  sign, 
and  how  alike  are  all  human  beings  in  their 
principles,  sentiments,  and  all  that  we  call  char- 
acter !  Or  perhaps  they  might  recall  secrets  that 
we  are  sure  were  only  known  to  them.  But 
how  few  men  have  such  secrets  !  And  who  can 
assure  us  that  a  thousand  other  spirits  are  not 
familiar  with  our  secrets  ?  And  who  —  and  this 
is  the  most  fearful  question  —  who  can  assure  us 
that  other,  perhaps  hateful  spirits,  may  not  in 
this  manner  deceive  us  with  vain  hopes,  or  tor- 
ment us  with  idle  fears  ?  Then,  how  could  we 
recognize  —  through  our  senses  recognize  —  that 
an  appearance  which  presents  itself  to  us  is  truly 
the  soul  of  a  dead  man  ? 

And  how  can  such  a  spirit  teach  us  of  the  fu- 
ture after  death  ?  Perhaps  through  words  ?  But 
to  utter  words  would  require  the  organs  of  speech 


THE   SURE   WALL.  81 

of  the  human  body,  which  the  dead  no  longer 
possess.  They  cannot  speak  in  the  human  way, 
nor  in  tones  audible  to  human  ears  !  How  can 
they,  then,  communicate  with  us  ?  Will  they 
perhaps  originate  thoughts  and  sensations  direct- 
ly in  our  souls,  without  our  perceiving  their  pres- 
ence with  our  senses  ?  But  how  should  we  dis- 
tinguish between  these  thoughts  and  sentiments 
and  our  own  ?  How  should  we  know  it  is  the 
spirit  of  the  dead  that  is  coming  in  contact 
directly  with  our  spirit  ?  And  could  we  call 
such  a  contact,  always  remaining  in  mystery,  an 
appearance  of  the  dead  ?  And  would  it  avail  to 
convert  the  unbeliever,  or  strengthen  our  hope 
in  immortality? 

Thus,  considered  on  all  sides,  is  a  reappearance 
of  one  who  was  dead,  his  recognition  too,  and  the 
possibility  of  instruction  from  him,  in  itself  im- 
possible and  not  to  be  imagined.  And  with  this, 
experience  coincides,  which  has  never  been  able 
to  produce  a  single  trustworthy  example  of  such 
an  appearance  of  the  spirit.  For  all  supposed 
experiences  of  this  kind  have  in  the  end  been 
recognized  as  deception  or  illusion.  Even  Jesus 
appeared  after  his  resurrection  to  his  friends, 
not  in  the  spirit,  but  in  the  body ;  and  it  was  by 
this  that  his  trusted  friends  recognized  him.  If 
then  the  unbeliever,  like  the  rich  man  in  the 
parable,  requires  that  the  dead  must  appear  to 


82  THE   SECOND   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

him  before  he  can  believe  in  immortality,  and  if 
the  timid  wish  for  such  a  reappearance,  at  least 
to  destroy  their  doubts  and  to  give  to  sinners  a 
powerful  impulse  for  repentance,  then  do  they 
demand,  do  they  wish  for,  something  impossible. 
A  demand  for  the  impossible  is  wrongful,  and 
such  a  desire  for  the  impossible  a  folly. 

But  such  a  reappearance  of  the  dead  is,  sec- 
ondly, wholly  unnecessary  and  superfluous ;  for 
we  have,  as  Jesus  says,  or  he  allows  Abraham  to 
say,  Moses  and  the  prophets,  whom  we  should 
listen  to  ;  that  is,  we  have  for  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  so  many  weighty  proofs,  that  it  needs 
no  further  confirmation.  It  would  be  super- 
fluous to  discuss  here  circumstantially  the  proofs* 
that  reason  and  revelation  present  of  the  certain- 
ty of  immortality.  I  have  only  this  to  offer,  that 
these  proofs  must  be  completely  satisfactory  to 
us.  Let  us  first  look  at  the  proofs  of  reason. 
With  what  right  does  the  unbeliever  refuse  their 
issues,  with  what  right  does  he  demand  a  greater 
security  for  the  recognition  of  the  senses  ?  A 
double  power  of  comprehension  is  given  to  man 
by  the  Creator,  —  the  senses  which  are  possessed 
by  the  body,  for  the  corporal  objects  of  the  visi- 
ble world,  and  the  reason,  a  power  of  the  soul, 
for  invisible  things  and  for  the  truths  of  the  un- 
derstanding. Both  of  these  powers  are  gifts  of 
the  Creator,  with  like  intention,  but  for  different 


THE   SURE   WALL.  83 

aims  ;  both  of  them  have  a  similar  worth,  both 
give  a  like  certainty  and  deserve  a  like  confi- 
dence. It  must  then  be  enough  for  us,  if  we 
have  for  the  truth  of  a  thought  proofs  of  reason, 
and  it  is  plainly  a,  useless  scepticism  to  desire  for 
objects  recognizable  by  the  reason  proofs  of  the 
senses.  We  might  much  sooner  trust,  nay,  firmly 
believe,  the  verdict  of  the  reason  with  regard  to 
invisible  things,  rather  than  that  of  the  senses 
with  regard  to  visible  objects.  And  as  we  re- 
quire no  proof  from  reason  that  the  standing 
corn  appears  green,  although  some  of  infirm  eyes 
may  declare  that  it  appears  to  them  red  or  yel- 
low ;  and  as  we  desire  no  proof  from  reason  of 
the  existence  of  very  distant  visible  objects,  al- 
though short-sighted  persons  may  declare  they 
cannot  see  them ;  so  little  necessity  have  we  to 
demand  a  proof  to  the  senses  of  our  continued 
existence  after  death,  because  some  whose  hearts 
are  diseased  by  crime,  or  an  evil  conscience,  or 
scepticism,  will  not  confide  in  reason. 

Yet  the  proofs  of  reason  are  not  those  alone  to 
which  we  should  listen.  We  have  also  proofs  in 
the  teaching  of  our  Lord.  We  have  countless 
promises  in  his  divinely  attested  words  ;  we  find 
in  his  own  person,  in  the  sublime  work  of  that 
redemption  that  he  brought  about  even  in  his 
death,  and  through  which  the  entrance  into  a 
blessed  eternity  is  laid  open,  —  we  find  in  his 


84  THE   SECOND   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

glorious  resurrection,  and  in  liis  ascension  to  his 
Heavenly  Father,  —  the  most  complete  surety 
that  we  are  immortal.  Why  do  we  need  further 
witness  ?  Can  anything  render  it  more  sure  that 
men  are  destined  for  immortality,  than  that  God 
has  sent  his  own  Son  to  them  ?  Can  anything 
assure  us  immortality  more  certainly, "than  that 
Jesus  founded  a  reconciliation,  by  which  we  are 
saved  from  an  eternal  death,  and  consecrated  to 
an  eternal  life  ?  Can  a  man  of  dust  desire  more 
of  his  Creator  than  these  securities,  —  this  pledge 
that  we  have  in  Jesus  ? 

Yet,  if  we  would  desire  a  proof  of  immortality 
through  our  senses,  we  have  indeed  one  which 
more  powerfully  bears  witness  to  us  of  immor- 
tality than  even  the  mysterious  appearance  of 
one  dead.  This  is  the  sight  of  the  immeasurable 
universe,  and  the  countless  glorious  dwelling- 
places  which  God  has  created  for  rational  beings. 
With  deep  wonder  our  eyes  behold  the  countless 
worlds  spread  abroad  through  the  heavens,  which 
all  bear  outwardly  some  similarity  to  the  earth 
that  we  inhabit,  and  clearly  are  far  more  splen- 
did and  greater  theatres  of  the  majesty  of  the 
Creator  than  the  little  globe  on  which  we  live. 
But  why,  my  friends,  should  we  need  further 
testimony  ?  Why  must  the  souls  of  the  dead 
descend  from  the  abodes  allotted  to  them  by 
divine  mercy  to  assure  us  that  the  precious  say- 


THE   SURE  WALL.  85 

ing  of  our  Lord  Jesus  is  true,  when  he  says,  "  In 
my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions,  —  I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  you"  ?  Do  not  our  delighted 
eyes  behold  these  heavenly  mansions  ?  Can  any- 
thing from  our  own  being  convince  us  more 
strongly  than  their  wonderful  aspect  itself  ? 

With  what  right,  then,  do  the  unbelieving 
demand,  and  the  wavering  desire,  that  the  spirits 
of  the  dead  should  secure  to  us  a  certainty  of 
immortality  ?  Have  we  not  the  strongest  proofs, 
supported  by  the  view  of  the  visible  heavens, 
which  must  leave  us  without  a  doubt  ? 

Yet  allowing  that  we  might  receive  a  confirma- 
tion of  our  hope  in  the  appearance  of  the  dead, 
such  a  reappearance  would  neither  convince'  the 
unbelieving  nor  reform  the  sinful ;  in  consequence, 
would  be  wholly  useless.  The  unbelieving  and 
the  sinful  say  only  too  willingly  with  the  rich 
man,  "  If  indeed  one  arose  from  the  dead,  and 
preached  us  repentance,  we  would,  we  must 
believe  ;  then  should  we  surely  repent."  But 
Jesus  declares  this  is  a  vain  expectation.  They 
hear  not,  he  says,  Moses  nor  the  prophets,  there- 
fore they  would  not  believe  if  one  rose  from  the 
dead ;  that  is,  if  the  grounds  which  reason  and 
revelation  give  us  for  immortality  have  no  power 
over  our  hearts,  then  it  would  make  no  impres- 
sion did  one  come  from  the  dead,  to  appear  to  us, 
and  preach  to  us.     And  in  truth,  my  brothers,  it 


86  THE   SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

is  so.  Neither  faith  nor  virtue  would  gain  any- 
thing by  it ;  the  unbelieving  would  not  be  con- 
verted, nor  the  sinful  reformed.  For,  granting 
that  it  were  possible  the  dead  should  appear  to 
us,  and  teach  usT  yet  we  should  never  be  certain 
of  these  appearances,  — r  they  would  lose  their 
power  through  habit,  or  the  passage  of  time,  and 
finally  would  rob  our  virtue  of  all  which  can  give 
it  a  peculiar  worth. 

Never  should  we  be  wholly  certain  that  we  had 
not  been  deceived.  We  should  always  doubt 
whether  they  truly  were  the  souls  of  the  dead 
that  had  appeared  to  us.  This  lies  in  the  nature 
of  things.  The  apparitions  of  the  dead  would 
always  retain  something  mysterious  and  incom- 
prehensible in  their  nature.  We  can  think  of  no 
means,  as  we  have  before  said,  by  which  we  could 
completely  convince  ourselves  that  indeed  an  ap- 
parition was  the  spirit  of  one  dead,  and  nothing 
could  offer  us  a  security  that  such  a  spirit  truly 
told  us,  or  could  tell  us,  the  truth.  Always 
would  such  an  appearance  leave  room  for  scep- 
ticism ;  and  even  he  who  would  willingly  believe, 
could  never  bring  his  convictions  to  the  necessary 
degree  of  certainty.  What  could  we  indeed  ex- 
pect from  such  appearances  ?  How  could  they 
disclose  convincing  facts  ?  How  could  they  con- 
vert the  unbeliever  and  the  sceptic,  when  they 
call  in  question,  or  completely  reject,  much  more 
certain  and  convincing  truths  ? 


THE   SURE   WALL.  87 

Yet,  granting  that  it  were  possible  to  be  snre 
concerning  appearances  of  this  nature,  still  would 
they  lose  all  power  over  the  heart,  through  habit 
and  the  passage  of  time.  'Do  you  doubt  this  ? 
Let  us,  then,  listen  to  experience.  It  is  gener- 
ally known  and  confessed,  that  the  impression 
that  great  events  produce  at  first,  grows  weaker 
and  weaker,  and  at  last  disappears.  You  find 
examples  of  this,  perhaps,  in  your  own  life. 
Now,  should  the  dead  appear  but  seldom,  per- 
haps but  once  in  a  single  generation,  or  but  once 
to  one  man,  the  first  impression  would,  it  is  true, 
be  startling ;  but  with  each  month,  with  every 
year,  it  would  lose  more  of  its  power,  and  finally 
produce  no  more  effect.  But  were  such  appear- 
ances something  customary,  they  would  have 
much  less  influence ;  for  the  most  remarkable 
and  extraordinary  things  become  indifferent  to 
us  through  habit.  Knowledge  alone  —  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  future,  a  perception  of  dan- 
ger of  sin — is  certainly  not  enough,  and  does  not 
make  man  prudent.  What  avails  it,  if  the  phy- 
sician proves  ever  so  clearly  to  the  sensual  man, 
that  he  is  preparing  for  himself  an  early  grave  ? 
What  avails  it,  if  the  intemperate  man,  the  glut- 
ton, the  voluptuary,  see  countless  examples  of 
misery  before  their  eyes,  to  which  these  vices 
lead  ?  What  impression  does  it  make  upon  the 
spendthrift,  when  he  sees  that  he  is  decreasing 


88  THE   SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

his  riches  daily,  and  when  he  can  reckon  the  day 
that  he  shall  become  poor  ?  What  impression 
does  it  make  upon  the  thief,  the  street-robber, 
though  they  see,  daily,  the  gallows  before  their 
eyes,  and  can  prophesy  their  own  fate  by  the 
example  of  that  of  others  ?  All  this  avails  noth- 
ing, as  experience  shows.  The  first  impression 
disappears  by  degrees,  and  is  it  often  repeated, 
it  loses  still  more  its  power.  Those  also  who 
despise  the  voice  of  reason  and  revelation,  as 
well  as  that  of  the  wisest  men  and  the  clearest 
experience,  would  neither  believe  nor  be  made 
better,  even  if  one  rose  from  the  dead.  . 

Imagine,  my  friends,  that  you  were  convincing 
a  company  of  men  who  were  born  blind,  of  the 
truth  that  after  death  we  are  to  enter  into  a  new 
and  more  splendid  world,  because  our  Lord  has 
assured  us  that  in  his  Father's  house  are  many 
mansions,  and  that  he  would  prepare  a  place 
there,  newer  and  happier.  They  would  doubt, 
and  reply :  "  How  empty  is  this  hope,  with  which 
you  would  console  us  !  Where  are  the  mansions 
of  heaven  of  which  the  Lord  speaks  ?  Are  they 
at  hand  ?  Why  have  we  no  perception  of  them 
through  our  senses  ?  No,  we  cannot  take  hold  on 
this  hope,  until  we  see  and  feel  these  mansions 
of  heaven."  Imagine  further,  that  the  eyes  of 
those  born  blind  should  be  opened  to  sight,  and 
the  splendor  of  the  sun  and  the  moon,  and  of  the 


THE   SURE   WALL.  89 

countless  stars  of  night,  should  suddenly  stream 
upon  their  eyes.  Then  would  they  fall  down 
and  worship ;  then  would  they  say,  "  Yes,  now 
my  heart  believes,  for  my  eyes  behold  world  upon 
world  !  Yes,  we  are  indeed  immortal !  "  But, 
my  friends,  how  long  would  this  impression  last  ? 
To  this  give  the  answer  yourselves.  In  a  short 
time  they  would  look  upon  the  universe  quite  as 
indifferently  as  many  an  unbeliever  and  sinner 
who  has  beheld  it  his  life  long,— -  would  even 
doubt  like  such  a  one,  and  need  new  proofs,  as 
does  many  a  man  born  with  sight.  Could  you 
believe  that  it  would  be  otherwise  with  the  ap- 
pearing of  the  dead  ? 

But  did  such  appearances  truly  produce  the 
effect  upon  the  unbelieving  and  upon  sinners 
which  we  are  so  inclined  to  expect,  then  would 
our  virtue  lose  completely  all  which  gives  it  its 
peculiar  worth.  That  Divinity  which,  in  our  rea- 
son, by  revelation  and  the  sight  constantly  pre- 
sented of  the  world  and  of  heaven,  has  given  so 
many  pledges  of  his  goodness,  desires,  and  justly, 
a  confidence  from  us  in  his  word,  a  belief  in  his 
promises, — that  we  should  hold  as  true  the  word 
that  he  has  disclosed  to  us  in  the  Scriptures  and 
by  reason,  and  that  we  should  through  faith  in 
these  live  holily  and  die  consoled.  The  virtuous 
whose  virtue,  the  good  whose  trust  proceeds  from 
such  a  faith,  is  a  true  child  of  God ;  his  life  is  a 

8* 


90  THE   SECOND    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

true  service  of  God,  for  through  love  of  God  and. 
faith  in  him  does  he  conquer  the  world,  sin,  and. 
death.  Without  seeking  with  his  eyes  for  the 
rewards  of  the  future  world,  he  is  virtuous  and. 
trusts  it  to  his  Heavenly  Father  to  give  him  his 
reward.  Without  beholding  with  his  eyes  the 
punishments  of  the  future  world,  he  flees  the  evil 
because  he  knows  it  is  against  the  will  of  his 
Heavenly  Father.  And  it  is  this  faith  that  can 
make  our  virtuous  acts  pleasing  to  God,  and 
gives  them  their  worth  in  the  eyes  of  men.  But 
if  the  dead  must  first  arise  from  their  graves  to 
confirm  the  word,  of  God  that  is  in  us  and  the 
Scriptures,  —  if  we  would  believe  and  follow,  not 
the  voice  of  God,  but  our  own  eyes  and  ears, — 
then  would  our  merit  sink  away ;  our  virtue  is  no 
longer  a  service  to  God,  no  longer  the  fruit  of  a 
childlike,  a  God-trusting  heart. 

If  it  is  thus  in  itself  impossible  that  the  dead 
should  appear  again  to  the  living;  if  such  a  re- 
appearance is  wholly  superfluous  because  the 
hope  of  immortality  has  elsewhere  sufficient  as- 
surance ;  and  if  it  finally  would  neither  convert 
the  unbeliever  nor  better  the  sinner,  and  certainly 
have  no  weighty  influence,  — we  see  plainly  how 
foolish  is  the  desire  for  such  an  appearance,  and 
how  groundless  it  is  to  consider  the  want  of  it  an 
excuse  for  disbelief  in  immortality.  For  to  de- 
sire what  is  impossible,  unnecessary,  and  useless, 


THE   SURE   WALL.  91 

and  to  despise  what  is  most  worthy  of  belief  and 
authentic,  —  this  is  either  folly  or  wickedness. 

No,  my  friends,  we  will  not  be  guilty  of  this 
folly  Our  faith  in  a  life  after  death  has  that 
degree  of  certainty  which  is  good  for  us.  It  is 
strong  enough,  this  faith,  to  animate  us  with  a 
divine  spirit,  without  making  us  unfit  for  the 
concerns  of  this  life ;  powerful  enough  to  lift  us 
above  the  sufferings  of  this  life,  without  making 
its  joys  distasteful  to  us.  More  light  would  daz- 
zle our  understanding,  more  certainty  would  rob 
us  of  this  life's  joys.  By  faith  should  we  live, 
and  not  by  sight.  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what 
we  shall  be ;  and  it  will  not  appear  here.  By 
hope  and  faith  in  God  shall  we  train  ourselves, 
and  learn  obedience.  Happy  those  who  under- 
stand this,  and  preserve  their  faith  and  virtue ! 
"What  they  believe  here  will  they  some  time  be- 
hold with  their  eyes  ;  what  they  strive  after,  they 
will  attain ;  what  they  hope  for  will  become  cer- 
tainty. For  never,  never  can  it  deceive,  —  the 
promise  in  us  and  that  in  the  Gospel.  Both 
come  from  God,  and  God  is  truth  ! 


92  THE   SECOND   STORMY   SUNDAY. 


"  In  the  day  when  I  cried  thou  answeredst  me,  and  strengthenedst 
me  with  strength  in  my  soul." —  Psalm  cxxxviii.  3. 


Saviour !  beneath  thy  yoke 

My  wayward  heart  doth  pine, 
All  unaccustomed  to  the  stroke 
Of  love  divine ; 
Thy  chastisements,  my  God,  are  hard  to  bear, 
Thy  cross  is  heavy  for  frail  flesh  to  wear. 

"  Perishing  child  of  clay ! 

Thy  sighing  I  have  heard ; 
Long  have  I  marked  thy  evil  way, 
How  thou  hast  erred. 
Yet  fear  not ;  by  my  own  most  holy  name 
I  will  shed  healing  through  thy  sin-sick  frame." 

Praise  to  thee,  gracious  Lord ! 

I  fain  would  be  at  rest ; 
O,  now  fulfil  thy  faithful  word, 
And  make  me  blest ! 
My  soul  would  lay  her  heavy  burden  down, 
And  take  with  joyfulness  the  promised  crown. 

"  Stay,  thou  short-sighted  child ! 

There  is  much  first  to  do  ; 
Thy  heart,  so  long  by  sin  defiled, 
I  must  renew ; 
Thy  will  must  here  be  taught  to  bend  to  mine, 
Or  the  sweet  peace  of  heaven  can  ne'er  be  thine." 


THE   SURE  WALL.  93 

Yea,  Lord,  but  thou  canst  soon 

Perfect  thy  work  in  me, 
Till,  like  the  pure,  calm  summer  moon, 
I  shine  by  thee,  — 
A  moment  shine,  that  all  thy  power  may  trace, 
Then  pass  in  stillness  to  my  heavenly  place. 

"Ah,  coward  soul!  confess 

Thou  shrinkest  from  my  cure, 
Thou  tremblest  at  the  sharp  distress 
Thou  must  endure,  — 
The  foes  on  every  hand,  for  war  arrayed, 
The  thorny  path  in  tribulation  laid,  — 

"  The  process  slow  of  years, 

The  discipline  of  life, 
Of  outward  woes  and  secret  tears, 
Sickness  and  strife,  — 
The  idols  taken  from  thee  one  by  one, 
Till  thou  canst  dare  to  live  with  me  alone. 

"  Some  gentle  souls  there  are 

Who  yield  unto  my  love, 
Who,  ripening  fast  beneath  my  care, 
I  soon  remove ; 
But  thou  stiff-necked  art,  and  hard  to  rule ; 
Thou  must  stay  longer  in  affliction's  school." 

My  Maker  and  my  King ! 

Is  this  thy  love  to  me  ? 
O  that  I  had  the  lightning's  wing, 

From  earth  to  flee  ! 


94  THE   SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

How  can  I  bear  the  heavy  weight  of  woes 
Thine  indignation  on  thy  creature  throws  ? 

"  Thou  canst  not,  O  my  child, 
So  hear  my  voice  again  ;  — 
I  will  bear  all  thy  anguish  wild, 
Thy  grief,  thy  pain  ; 
My  arms  shall  be  around  thee  day  by  day, 
My  smile  shall  cheer  thee  on  thy  heavenward  way. 

"  In  sickness,  I  will  be 

"Watching  beside  thy  bed ; 
In  sorrow,  thou  shalt  lean  on  me 
Thy  aching  head ; 
In  every  struggle  thou  shalt  conqueror  prove, 
Nor  death  itself  shall  sever  from  thy  love." 

O  grace  beyond  compare ! 

0  love  most  high  and  pure ! 
Saviour,  begin,  —  no  longer  spare,  — 

1  can  endure ; 

Only  vouchsafe  God's  grace,  that  I  may  live 
Unto  his  glory,  who  can  so  forgive. 


THE  SURE  WALL.  95 


ON  FIDELITY  IN  SMALL  MATTERS.* 

St.  Francis  of  Sales  says  that  great  virtues  and 
fidelities  in  small  things  are  like  sugar  and  salt : 
sugar  is  more  delicious,  but  of  less  frequent  use, 
while  salt  enters  into  every  article  of  food.  Great 
virtues  are  rare :  they  are  seldom  needed ;  and 
when  the  occasion  comes,  we  are  prepared  for  it 
by  everything  which  has  preceded,  excited  by  the 
greatness  of  the  sacrifice,  and  sustained  either 
by  the  brilliancy  of  the  action  in  the  eyes  of  oth- 
ers, or  by  self-complacency  in  our  ability  to  do 
such  wonderful  things.  Small  occasions,  how- 
ever, are  unforeseen ;  they  recur  every  moment, 
and  place  us  incessantly  in  conflict  with  our 
pride,  our  sloth,  our  self-esteem,  and  our  pas- 
sions ;  they  are  calculated  thoroughly  to  subdue 
our  wills,  and  leave  us  no  retreat.  If  we  are 
faithful  in  them,  nature  will  have  no  time  to 
'breathe,  and  must  die  to  all  her  inclinations.  It 
would  please  us  much  better  to  make  some  great 
sacrifices,  however  painful  and  violent,  on  con- 
dition of  obtaining  liberty  to  follow  our  own 
pleasure  and  retain  our  old  habits  in  little  things. 
But  it  is  only  by  this  fidelity  in  small  matters 
that  the  grace  of  true  love  is  sustained  and  dis- 
tinguished from  the  transitory  excitements  of 
nature. 

*  Fenelon. 


96  THE   SECOND   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

It  is  with  piety  as  it  is  with  our  temporal 
goods  ;  there  is  more  danger  from  little  expenses 
than  from  larger  disbursements,  and  he  who 
understands  how  to  take  care  of  what  is  insig- 
nificant, will  soon  accumulate  a  large  fortune. 
Everything  great  owes  its  greatness  to  the  small 
elements  of  which  it  is  composed ;  he  that  loses 
nothing,  will  soon  be  rich. 

Consider,  on  the  other  hand,  that  God  does  not 
so  much  regard  our  actions,  as  the  motive  of  love 
from  which  they  spring,  and  the  pliability  of  our 
wills  to  his.  Men  judge  our  deeds  by  their  out- 
ward appearance  ;  with  God,  that  which  is  most 
dazzling  in  the  eyes  of  man  is  of  no  account. 
What  he  desires  is  a  pure  intention,  a  will  ready 
for  anything,  and  ever  pliable  in  his  hands,  and 
an  honest  abandonment  of  self;  and  all  this  can 
be  much  more  frequently  manifested  on  small 
than  on  extraordinary  occasions ;  there  will  also 
be  much  less  danger  from  pride,  and  the  trial* 
will  be  far  more  searching.  Indeed,  it  sometimes 
happens,  that  we  find  it  harder  to  part  with  a 
trifle  than  an  important  interest ;  it  may  be  more 
of  a  cross  to  abandon  a  vain  amusement,  than  to 
bestow  a  large  sum  in  charity. 

We  are  the  more  easily  deceived  about  these 
small  matters,  in  proportion  as  we  imagine  them 
to  be  innocent,  and  ourselves  indifferent  to  them. 
Nevertheless,  when  God  takes  them  away,  we 


THE   SURE   WALL.  97 

may  easily  recognize,  in  the  pain  of  the  depriva- 
tion, how  excessive  and  inexcusable  were  both 
the  use  and  the  attachment.  If  we  are  in  the 
habit  of  neglecting  little  things,  we  shall  be  con- 
stantly offending  our  families,  our  domestics,  and 
the  public.  No  one  can  well  believe  that  our 
piety  is  sincere,  when  our  behavior  is  loose  and 
irregular  in  its  little  details.  What  ground  have 
we  for  believing  that  we  are  ready  to  make  the 
greatest  sacrifices,  when  we  daily  fail  in  offering 
the  least  ? 


It  is  very  touching,  —  it  brings  both  smile  and 
tear,  —  to  see  the  eternal  hope,  which  always 
soars,  like  a  white  dove,  from  under  the  shadow 
of  every  disappointment,  so  white,  so  fresh,  as  if 
its  wings  were  cleansed  anew,  in  the  darkness 
out  of  which  it  came ;  the  hope  that  is  like 
a  courageous  word,  like  a  suddenly  thronging 
thought  of  spring-time,  like  a  walk  in  the  cool 
air  on  an  autumn  mountain-side ;  the  hope  that 
something  will  yet  be,  that  the  ocean  of  futurity 
is  yet  filled  with  pearls  for  the  successful  diver, 
that  nature  is  yet  rich,  and  God  lavish,  as  of  old, 
and  one's  meed  not  utterly  overdone. —  Studies 
in  Religion. 


THE  THIRD   STOEMY   SUNDAY. 

THE  DAILY  BREAD. 


"  God  could  have  made  all  rich,  or  all  men  poore, 
But  why  he  did  not,  let  me  tell  wherefore  : 
Had  all  been  rich,  where  then  had  patience  been  1 
Had  all  been  poore,  who  had  his  bounty  seen  ?  " 


Herrick. 


THE    THIRD    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

THE  DAILY  BREAD. 

"  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread." 

All  day  long  I  have  been  sitting  by  the  fire, 
and,  opposite  me,  that  sad  form !  She  is  sleeping 
now,  and  the  tired  body  is  leaning  back  for  rest ; 
the  poor,  pale  hands  are  folded,  and  a  smile  of 
repose  lies  on  the  half-closed  lips.  She  has  been 
telling  me  her  story,  —  she,  poor  child,  still  so 
much  younger  than  I,  who  has  yet  lived  through 
a  life  of  so  much  suffering  ! 

I  quite  forgot  the  storm  that  has  been  all 
day  raging  without,  that  has  kept  us  both  at 
home  from  church  to-day,  —  I  forgot  it  all  in  lis- 
tening to  the  trouble  of  her  life.  She  came  to 
me  yesterday  ;  she  is  to  leave  me  to-morrow,  and 
has  administered  to  me  to-day  the  religious  ser- 
vice that  I  was  not  able  to  seek  at  the  church. 
I  cannot  write  down  all  her  words,  nor  linger 
over  all  that  she  told  me  of  her  early  life.  Nor 
can  I  write  the  quiet  tone  with  which  all  was 
9* 


102  THE   THIRD    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

told  me,  —  the  tone  which  showed  the  suffering 
that  was  so  deep  it  could  not  yet  be  called  a  past 
suffering. 

She  said :  "It  was  a  very  pretty  home  where  I 
lived  all  my  earlier  years.  And  yet,  at  the  time, 
my  sorrow  was  not  very  great  when  I  left  it. 
For  the  sorrow  had  come  before,  when  my  father 
and  my  mother  left  me,  one  by  one,  and  I  was 
beginning  to  learn  I  was  to  live  upon  my  own 
responsibilities.  It  is  since  then  that  I  have 
looked  back  with  sorrow  upon  my  early  home, 
and  with  regret.  For  though  we  lived  so  poorly, 
as  some  would  think  it,  yet  we  lived  comfortably. 
"We  did  not  know  what  want  was,  nor  unkind 
treatment,  nor  harsh  words. 

"  And  since  then  I  have  learned  to  know  what 
the  beauty  was  that  surrounded  my  old  home. 
Small  as  the  windows  were,  they  looked  out  upon 
a  broad  landscape,  and  on  sunrise  and  sunset. 
And  the  little  door-yard  was  small,  yet  we  hardly 
saw  it  was  fenced  in,  since  there  was  a  grander 
boundary  of  mountains  around  us.  But  when  I 
left  it,  there  was  neither  father  nor  mother  to 
say  good-by  to,  and  the  few  who  had  been  my 
companions  had  gone,  too,  to  seek  their  fortune 
in  larger  places,  and  I  was  willing  to  try  mine 
also. 

"  I  was  going  to  meet  my  only  brother,  in  New 
York.     He  was  a  carpenter,  and  had  his  own 


THE  DAILY  BREAD.  .       103 

family  to  support ;  and  I  was  to  live  with  him, 
and  support  myself  too,  with  my  needlework. 
This  was  no  hard  work  for  me  ;  it  was  what  I 
had  all  my  life  been  brought  up  to  do.  I  had 
been  known  in  our  village,  young  as  I  was,  as  a 
skilful  seamstress,  and  I  was  very  willing  to  use 
my  own  hands  for  my  support,  and  give  my 
whole  day  to  my  work  too. 

"  And  at  first  we  were  all  successful  in  our 
labors ;  we  lived  many  years  happily  together. 
We  were  very  busy,  it  is  true.  We  had  no  time 
for  amusements,  we  had  no  leisure,  but  we  had 
each  other,  and  we  had  steady  work  to  do,  —  that 
was  all  we  asked  for.  My  work  was  steady  in- 
deed. I  sewed  all  day,  and  had  work  to  bring 
home  for  the  evenings ;  so,  though  I  loved  my 
brother's  children  dearly,  I  had  no  time  to  play 
with  them,  and  teach  them  to  love  me.  Yet  they 
did  love  me,  without  my  teaching  them.  They 
welcomed  me  at  night,  had  my  supper  ready  for 
me,  that  I  might  lose  no  time,  and  then  my  lamp, 
for  me  to  sit  by  it  at  work.  And  they  knew  how 
to  work  too,  the  older  ones  and  the  younger. 
They  helped  their  mother,  took  care  of  each 
other ;  even  the  smallest  could  pick  up  the  chips, 
and  fetch  little  things  to  help  the  others. 

"  We  were  very  happy  then, '  though  we  had 
no  time  to  stop  and  think  so.  We  had  no  time 
either  to  make  other  friends ;  we  were  happy  in 


104  THE  THIRD   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

our  work  and  in  each  other.  And  we  were  try- 
ing to  lay  up  a  little  money,  and  talked  over 
plans  of  more  comfortable  days.  I  did  not  talk 
indeed,  for  I  used  to  talk  little  in  those  days. 
The  habit  of  sitting  all  day  at  my  work  without 
speaking  to  any  one  had  led  me  into  the  way  of 
shutting  myself  up  in  my  own  thoughts,  of  listen- 
ing, perhaps,  to  others,  but  never  replying  in 
words.     It  was  not  I  who  talked. 

"  It  was  Reuben,  at  night,  when  he  was  rest- 
ing himself.  He  would  tell  over  his  plans,  —  of 
how,  some  day,  he  would  have  laid  up  money 
enough  to  buy  the  old  homestead,  the  little  house 
under  the  great  elm,  —  not  of  much  value- to 
anybody,  but  he  would  buy  it,  and  set  up  a  car- 
penter's shop  in  our  own  village.  The  children 
liked  to  hear  their  father  talk  in  this  way,  and  it 
was  sometimes  a  Sunday  evening's  treat  to  talk 
over  what  we  would  do  when  we  bought  the  old 
home  again.  But  Esther,  my  sister-in-law,  was 
not  so  hopeful.  She  thought  we  ought  to  be 
laying  up  money,  indeed.  We  were  very  well 
off,  and  we  ought  not  to  spend  all  the  money  we 
earned  now.  For  there  would  come  worse  days, 
-days  when  there  might  be  no  work  to  be  got,  or 
days  of  sickness,  when  there  would  be  no  strength 
for  the  work, — when  money  could  not  be  earned, 
and  would  be  fast  consumed.  What  indeed 
could  we  do,  if  any  of  us  were  taken  with  sick- 


THE   DAILY  BREAD.  105 

ness,  unless  we  had  something  laid  up  in  store 
for  the  medicines  and  doctor's  bills  ?  So  the 
talk  all  ended  in  our  all  feeling  that,  while  the 
strength  lasted,  we  must  work  hard,  from  the 
strongest  to  the  smallest,  that  we  must  not  waste 
a  cent  of  our  earnings,  and  that  we  would  try 
hard  not  to  be  sick,  —  perhaps  then  ! 

"So  we  worked  harder  and  harder.  When 
the  extra  holidays  came,  Reuben  found  extra 
work.  Some  of  our  neighbors  would  make  ex- 
cursions into  the  country  these  days,  and  spend 
some  of  their  earnings  in  refreshing  themselves 
with  country  air.  And  they  might  have  been 
nearer  right  than  we.  Some  would  lounge  away 
such  time  in  the  streets.  But  Reuben  welcomed 
such  days,  because  in  them  he  could  earn  more 
money.  And  I  would  take  in  extra  sewing. 
And  Esther  taught  the  children  they  might  en- 
joy far  more  what  they  could  earn  those  days, 
than  what  they  would  spend. 

"Perhaps  we  were  all  wrong.  But  it  is  hard  to 
know  when  to  stop,  when  one  is  working  to  live. 
And  in  the  crowded  cities  there  are  no  lilies  for 
the  preacher  to  point  to,  and  say,  '  These  toil  not, 
neither  do  they  spin,  and  yet  Solomon  in  all 
his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these.' 
Nor  could  we  see  the  free  birds  of  the  air  whom 
the  Heavenly  Father  feeds. 

"  Yet  these  days  of  toil  were  very  happy  in 


106  THE  THIRD   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

comparison  with  the  days  of  sorrow  that  came 
after ;  for  we  made  a  pleasure  of  our  labor,  and 
we  had  each  other,  and  the  children.  For  the 
children  were  always  happy  :  they  came  home 
from  school  every  day  to  work ;  but  their  work 
was  what  would  be  the  play  to  other  children, 
and  their  voices  were  always  joyous,  and  their 
love  always  fresh. 

"  For  Esther's  forebodings  were  realized.  The 
days  of  sickness  came.  Reuben  first  was  taken 
with  rheumatic  fever,  and  the  little  savings  were 
very  fast  exhausted  for  the  necessities  that  were 
required  for  him.  And  the  rest  of  us  must  all 
work  harder  now  that  his  strong  arm  was  power- 
less. And  the  days  of  anxiety  on  his  account 
were  still  heavier.  It  was  very  hard  to  leave  him 
all  day,  while  I  sat  at  my  work.  My  work  I  could 
not  leave,  for  every  day  it  grew  more  and  more 
important  to  the  rest.  It  was  a  very  sad  winter. 
One  of  the  children,  my  namesake,  was  taken 
sick,  and  she  died.  We  had  want  and  sorrow  to 
struggle  with,  but  still  we  tried  to  strengthen 
each  other.  And  even  that  winter  I  could  after- 
wards look  back  upon,  and  recall  some  of  its 
happiness,  because  we  could  console  each  other. 
Sickness  seemed  to  have  brought  us  only  nearer 
to  each  other.  It  made  us  more  considerate  of 
each  other,  more  kindly  to  each  other's  failings. 

"  In  the  spring,  Reuben  got  up  from  his  sick- 


^THE   DAILY   BREAD.  107 

bed.  But  his  power  for  work  was  very  much 
gone.  He  had  an  offer  to  move  down  to  one  of 
the  Eastern  cities,  —  one  which  he  could  not  neg- 
lect. It  would  be  a  good  home  for  his  family, 
and,  hard  as  it  was  to  find  the  money  to  move 
away  with,  it  was  accomplished  at  last.  Reuben, 
at  first,  would  have  me  go  with  him,  but  I  would 
not  consent.  I  had  plenty  of  work  where  I  was, 
and  I  did  not  think  it  safe  to  leave  it.  I  did  not 
tell  him  that  I  had  begun  to  fear  my  own  strength 
was  failing.  Yet  I  knew-it  was  so.  And  I  did 
not  like  to  add  a  weak  member  to  their  family. 
I  knew  they  would  manage  to  get  along,  and  that 
was  all,  and  it  would  take  me  some  time  to  get 
into  regular  work,  and  if  then  I  should  give  way, 
I  should  be  nothing  but  a  burden  to  them. 

"  So  they  went  away,  and  I  was  left  alone.  I 
felt  too  as  if  it  were  a  very  long  parting.  For 
when  should  we  be  well  enough  off  to  afford  to 
visit  each  other,  and  when  should  we  have  the 
time  to  write  to  each  other  !  I  shall  not  tell  you 
all  about  the  time  that  followed.  They  were  not 
sorrowful  days.  I  became  so  used  to  my  own 
lonely  ways,  that,  as  the  time  passed,  it  did  not 
seem  wearisome  to  me  ;  though  I  think  it  was 
not  well  to  have  one  day  pass  so  like  another, 
to  have  no  one  to  speak  to  as  I  came  home  and 
went  out.  That  too  was  my  own  fault.  I  shut 
myself  up  in  my  own  little  room  when   I  was 


108  THE   THIRD   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

at  home,  and  shunned  all  acquaintance.  There 
were  many  other  families  living  in  the  same  house, 
and  many  of  them  would  have  received  me  kindly, 
but  I  avoided  every  one.  In  my  lonely  life,  in 
this  way,  I  lost  my  zest  for  work  ;  I  found  I  was 
not  earning  as  much,  and  my  strength  was  giv- 
ing way.  There  was  only  one  family  with  whom 
I  was  friendly ;  they  lived  in  a  room  the  door  of 
which  I  passed  every  day  as  I  went  up  to  my 
attic.  And  frequently,  as  the  door  stood  open, 
the  mother  spoke  to  me  kindly  as  I  passed.  This 
was  the  way  it  began,  then  she  asked  me  to  come 
in,  and  rest  myself  as  I  went  up  stairs.  Till,  at 
last,  I  did  go  in ;  and  finally  I  often  stopped 
there,  and  even  brought  down  my  light  in  the 
evenings,  occasionally,  to  sit  and  work  there. 
There  was  only  the  mother  and  one  son,  with 
two  daughters.  The  girls  were  a  part  of  the  time 
at  work  in  places,  and  were  not  often  at  home. 
But  the  boy  was  always  there.  For  he  was  an 
invalid,  and  a  cripple,  confined  to  his  poor  bed, 
and  had  been  so  for  many  years.  And  so,  some- 
times, I  would  sit  there  in  the  evenings,  while 
the  mother  had  gone  out,  perhaps  with  her  day's 
washing,  or  to  carry  home  her  sewing.  I  could 
be  a  companion  for  Davie,  some  one  whom  he 
could  talk  to. 

"  And  how  he  did  talk !     It  was  better  to  me 
than  any  book  to  hear  him.    For,  as  he  was  lying 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  109 

there,  he  had  read  many  books  that  kind  peo- 
ple had  lent  him,  and  he  would  tell  over  what  he 
had  read,  I  think,  in  a  finer  way  than  it  was  in 
the  books.  Such  descriptions  as  he  would  give 
of  far-away  places  that  he  had  never  seen !  And 
yet  it  seemed  as  if  he  must  be  seeing  them  then, 
so  bright  and  clear  he  made  them  all !  And  then 
he  remembered  the  places  he  had  seen  in  his 
well  days,  when  he  used,  occasionally,  to  get  out 
into  the  country.  It  brought  back  to  me,  then, 
all  my  early  country  days,  and  I  did  not  know 
before  they  were  so  beautiful.  And  though  I 
could  not  talk,  though  I  had  nothing  to  tell  him 
that  was  happy  and  gay,  and  though  my  memory 
did  not  know  how  to  paint  pictures  of  any  days 
that  were  happier,  it  could  give  him  pleasure  to 
talk  to  me.  I  could  not  answer  nor  reply,  but  I 
could  listen. 

"  It  grew  harder  for  me  to  go  up  and  down 
stairs,  to  go  every  day  to  my  work ;  and  my  rent 
was  raised,  and  I  could  not  find  a  cheaper  room, 
and  the  earnings  grew  smaller.  Then  came  the 
hard  days.  At  first,  I  did  not  dare  to  spend  all 
my  money,  for  I  must  save  some  for  worse  times  ; 
but  by  and  by  my  savings  grew  smaller  and 
smaller,  —  I  was  spending  each  day  all  that  I 
earned. 

"  At  this  time  I  was  working  often  by  day  in  a 
large,  handsome  house  in  the  upper  part  of  New 
10 


110  THE  THIRD   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

York.  I  sat  there  sewing  in  a  beautifully  fur- 
nished room.  It  was  a  pleasure  merely  to  sit 
there.  It  was  Miss  Ellen's  boudoir,  and  it  opened 
into  larger  and  more  beautiful  rooms.  All  round 
me  were  comforts  and  luxuries.  There  was  noth- 
ing there  that  was  not  beautiful,  however  useful 
it  might  be.  The  carpet  and  the  chairs  and  the 
curtains  must  match.  The  little  extinguisher 
on  the  toilette-table,  with  its  peasant's  cap,  must 
match  the  peasant-girls  on  the  pretty  papering. 
Even  the  books,  whatever  they  were  inside,  must 
lie  in  bindings  that  would  agree  with  the  colors 
of  the  room.  There  was  a  profusion  of  little 
luxuries  on  the  tables,  the  use  of  which  I  knew 
not  then,  nor  do  I  know  now.  As  I  passed 
through  the  house,  I  saw  other  rooms,  all  fur- 
nished in  the  same  profuse  and  tasteful  way. 
There  were  pictures  and  statues,  and  as  I  passed 
the  breakfast-room  door  I  saw  the  handsome  sil- 
ver that  decorated  the  table.  I  dwell  on  all  these, 
because  in  those  days  I  dwelt  on  them,  in  the 
sickly  state  of  my  mind  and  body,  0  how  mi- 
nutely !  I  compared  their  excess  with  my  want, 
this  profusion  with  my  destitution ! 

"I  sat  there  one  day  at  work  the  week  that  I 
believed  myself  starving !  Yes,  I  had  spent  my 
last  cent,  and  I  had  borrowed  my  next  week's 
wages,  and  I  had  in  my  home  but  one  crust  of 
bread,  that  I  was  saving  till  I  could  do  without 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  Ill 

it  no  longer  !  And  my  neighbors,  Davie  and  his 
mother,  they  were  in  as  evil  a  condition.  I  knew 
it,  though  they  did  not  tell  me.  And  still  I  had 
the  strength  to"  go  to  work,  and,  as  I  say,  I  sat  in 
this  room  so  filled  with  luxuries.  0,  it  was  heaped 
up  with  them,  so  that  one  could  not  single  out  a 
separate  luxury  for  enjoyment.  Like  a  large 
bunch  of  flowers,  each  one  so  gorgeous  in  color, 
yet  each,  as  it  were,  so  beautiful  as  to  hide  the 
other.  I,  who  have  perhaps  lived  in  too  great 
poverty  of  pleasure,  have  wondered  sometimes  if 
there  were  not  more  enjoyment  in  a  single  daisy. 

"  And  there  were  beautiful  flowers  in  this  room, 
too,  and  handsome  dresses  were  lying  round.  It 
was  strange  to  sit  in  this  profusion,  and  to  be 
in  utter  want  myself!  There  was  profusion  in 
everything, — in  sights,  in  sounds,  in  pleasures  of 
every  sort. 

"  And  Miss  Ellen  herself  was  tired  of  the 
pleasures  even.  There  was  a  concert  and  a  ball 
in  the  evening,  and  to  go  to  both  or  either  she 
must  give  up  Miss  Heron  at  the  theatre.  And 
she  was  not  sure  after  all  but  she  should  prefer  a 
quiet  evening  at  Mrs.  D.'s.  A  profusion  of  pleas- 
ures, and  we  had  not  one,  —  Davie  and  his  moth- 
er and  I !  What  would  Davie  not  give  to  hear 
that  concert,  to  hear  music  he  had  only  dreamed 
of!  Poor  boy,  he  had  nothing  to  give  !  Yes,  in 
the  midst  of  this  excess  of  pleasure,  at  times  I 


112  THE  THIRD   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

thought  Miss  Ellen  sat  as  much  in  want  as  I ! 
After  all,  we  had  each  but  one  life  to  live,  —  I 
mean  our  own,  whether  here  or  in  another  world, 
and  the  fault  and  poverty  in  her  own  life  was  the 
same  as  that  in  mine ;  we  were  each  living  alone, 
each  one  too  much  to  herself  She  little  knew 
the  excitement  I  was  going  through,  so  great  I 
could  hardly  keep  quietly  at  my  work.  I  was  to 
have  a  dinner.  I  was  to  stay  that  day,  and  they 
were  to  send  me  up  a  dinner !  So  full,  so  large 
it  would  be,  it  would  serve  me  for  two  days, 
and  my  poor  crust  might  be  saved.  The  din- 
ner came,  too  rich  for  poor  famished  me ;  yet  I 
could  venture  to  eat  some  of  it.  They  sent  me 
an  orange,  —  that  I  could  carry  away  to  Davie. 

"  So  that  was  not  my  starving  day,  though 
near  upon  it.  Saturday  night,  as  I  went  home 
after  carrying  some  work,  I  passed  the  shops 
lighted  up,  —  the  confectioners'  shops,  daintily 
filled  with  glittering,  tempting  luxuries.  I  saw 
meat  in  the  butchers'  shops,  I  saw  the  loaves  dis- 
played in  the  bakers'  windows.  I  lingered  to 
feast  my  eyes,  since  I  could  satisfy  myself  no 
other  way,  —  I  with  many  others.  Some  of  these 
went  in  to  beg  for  food,  and  I  watched  them 
eagerly,  and  saw  many  turned  away,  some  few 
treated  kindly.  I  would  have  liked  to  have  asked 
for  something  for  Davie,  and  a  selfish  want  almost 
led  me  to  ask  for  myself.     The  worst  day  came 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  118 

on  Sunday.  I  was  not  unwilling  it  should  be  so, 
for  that  day  I  might  find  some  spiritual  help. 
At  least,  so  I  thought  at  first ;  but  perhaps  my 
accustomed  work  would  have  more  held  up  my 
body.  I  went  to  church.  '  Give  us  this  day 
our  daily  bread.'  So  did  the  preacher  pray. 
And  did  I  not,  too,  earnestly  make  this  prayer, 
not  only  for  myself,  but  for  those  other  suffering 
ones  ?  i  Our  daily  bread,' — 0  what  a  rich  gift 
it  seemed  to  me !  Were  those  who  could  be  al- 
ways sure  of  their  daily  bread,  were  they  con- 
scious of  what  a  gift  it  was  ?  0  no !  so  it  seemed, 
for  the  preacher  in  his  sermon  went  on  to  show 
that  it  was  not  merely  the  daily  bread  that  was 
meant  in  these  words.  And  so  too,  probably, 
thought  the  richly  dressed  ladies  that  sat  in  front 
of  me,  who  never  thought  of  praying  for  their 
daily  bread,  they  who  had  never  felt  the  want  of 
it.     They  had  indeed,  perhaps,  other  wants. 

"  Not  merely  our  daily  bread  !  But  what  are 
we  without  it  ?  Where  is  our  strength,  our  faith, 
without  this  daily  bread  ?  Can  we  even  have 
strength  to  pray,  or  faith  in  God,  to  pray  without 
it  ?  Ah !  He  who  begged  us  to  refuse  not  the  cup 
of  cold  water  to  the  little  ones,  and  shared  the 
bread  among  the  suffering  multitude,  —  when  he 
told  us  to  labor  not  for  the  meat  that  perisheth, 
yet  he  knew  that  this  gift  might  be  asked  from 
God.  '  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
10* 


114       THE  THIRD  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

his  righteousness.  And  all  these  things  shall  be 
added  unto  you,'  he  said. 

"  But  that  day  I  must  pray  for  my  daily  bread. 
It  was  the  only  prayer  I  could  utter  in  faith. 
Otherwise  faith  seemed  dying  out  of  me.  It  is 
little  that  I  can  remember  of  that  day.  For  a 
little  while  I  seemed  upheld  in  the  church  by 
the  sound  of  prayer  and  praise.  I  do  not  know 
how  I  reached  home  again,  or  how  I  managed 
to  crawl  up  the  stairs.  Visions  of  plenty  were 
floating  before  my  eyes,  —  plenty  that  I  could 
not  grasp, — visions  of  repose  in  which  I  could 
find  no  soothing  then  flitted  before  me.  Many 
strange  days  of  unconsciousness  followed.  And 
when  I  woke  to  myself,  I  found  I  was  being 
cared  for.  Davie's  mother  was  watching  over 
me,  and  then  I  heard  that  she  had  done  for  me 
what  she  had  never  done  for  herself.  She  had 
asked  for.  help  ;  she  had  gone  to  Miss  Ellen  to 
tell  her  of  my  case.  And  Miss  Ellen  had  sent 
her  doctor,  and  I  had  been  treated  with  care,  and 
they  had  brought  me  food.  Miss  Ellen  had  been 
so  shocked.  '  Dying  of  starvation  !  It  was  not 
possible  !     If  she  had  only  known  ! ' 

"  '  If  she  had  only  known  ! '  Such  words  I 
have  found  myself  since  saying,  when  I  have  been 
in  the  condition  to  help  others,  —  I,  who  have 
lived  through  want  and  starvation.  I  have  found 
myself  saying,  '  If  I  could  only  know  who  they  are 


THE   DAILY  BREAD.  115 

that  want  my  help ! '  That  is  the  excuse  of  those 
who  have  the  means  to  help  others ;  and  it  is  an 
excuse.  For  it  was,  indeed,  partly  my  fault  that 
I  had  not  been  willing  to  share  my  troubles,  — 
that  I  had  not  been  brave  enough  to  tell  them. 
0,  it  does  require  courage  to  say  to  the  more  for- 
tunate, I  have  failed,  —  I  am  weak,  —  I  need 
your  strength !  It  was  partly  the  fault,  too,  of 
those  who  should  have  asked  me  about  them,  — 
my  employers.  It  is  not  enough  for  them  to  be 
just,  or  even  generous,  with  their  wages ;  they 
should  give  a  little  more,  —  some  of  their  friend- 
ship. A  kind,  inquiring  word  would  have  opened 
my  heart ;  it  would  have  helped  to  give  me 
strength  against  starvation  even.  We,  working 
so  hard,  pining  for  free  air,  —  it  was  not  merely 
free  air  we  needed,  but  freedom  in  thought,  in 
conversation,  in  heart.  We  had  no  summers  in 
the  country,  we  had  no  winter-evening  concerts ; 
but  some  sympathy  from  those  above  us  would 
have  refreshed  us,  like  the  country  breeze  or  the 
strain  of  music.  And  yet  it  is  not  my  part  to 
blame,  for  my  fault  lay  that  way.  I  had  never 
cultivated  the  expression  of  my  sympathy  for 
others.  I  had  always  an  unwillingness  to  open 
myself  to  others,  —  to  give  to  or  take  anything 
from  them. 

"  And  this  I  felt  when  my  more  prosperous 
days  came.     For  they  did  come.     I  was  just  re- 


116  THE  THIRD   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

gaining  my  strength,  when  I  had  an  unexpected 
visitor.  It  was  my  uncle,  my  mother's  brother, 
who  had  been  away  a  long  time,  no  one  had 
known  where.  He  had  just  returned  from  Cali- 
fornia, and  he  wanted  to  find  some  one  to  enjoy 
his  money  with  him. 

"  So  he  had  found  poor  me,  who  was  little  able 
to  bring  him  joy  or  gayety.  But  it  did  please 
him  to  do  me  good,  —  to  raise  me  out  of  want 
and  destitution  into  comfort  and  comparative 
luxury.  He  allowed  me,  too,  the  great  pleasure 
of  giving.  Then  I  found  how  hard  on  that  side 
it  was  to  give,  and  how  one  wanted  more  than 
money  in  knowing  how  to  give.  Even  I,  who 
knew  so  well  what  want  and  suffering  were, 
found  the  difficulties  in  relieving  it,  for  I  had 
not  been  educated  how  to  give  kind  words. 

"  0,  there  are  many  of  us  now  suffering  in  the 
great  cities  who  have  no  friend  but  our  work,  — 
who  have  never  learned  what  it  is  to  talk  with 
others,  what  it  is  to  be  amused.  It  was  very 
strange  to  me,  to  learn  the  art  of  pleasure.  At 
the  theatre,  I  saw  people  enjoy  most  the  repre- 
sentation of  suffering.  At  least,  if  they  did  not 
enjoy  it,  why  would  they  have  been  there  ?  I 
had  lived  too  long  in  sorrow  to  be  made  happy 
that  way.  Could  it  give  me  any  pleasure  to  see 
the  fancied  suffering  of  a  young  girl  on  the  stage, 
dying,  perhaps,  of  desertion  and  neglect, — I,  who 


THE  DAILY  BREAD.  117 

had  looked  upon  the  reality  ?  I  saw,  at  musical 
entertainments,  artists  who  must  have  gained 
their  power  only  through  toil  and  suffering.  I 
could  think  only  of  this,  —  I,  who  had  not  been 
educated  to  love  music.  Yet  I  liked  the  sound 
of  simple  music,  —  music  that  I  could  not  fancy 
was  the  labor  of  any  one,  —  that  was  uttered  as 
if  it  gave  pleasure  to  create  it,  not  as  if  it  were 
a  means  of  livelihood,  the  drudgery  to  earn  the 
daily  bread. 

"  I  did  take  pleasure  in  giving!  I  did  not  care 
so  much  to  make  large  charities,  but  I  liked  to 
give  a  little  to  a  great  many ;  and  often  I  could 
remember  the  pleasure  that  some  small,  unexpect- 
ed gift  could  excite  in  those  who  were  just  able 
to  get  along.  I  knew  just  where  the  want  would 
weigh,  and  it  was  a  great  happiness  to  carry  the 
relief. 

"  At  first  I  made  a  mistake.  I  tried  keeping 
my  charities  secret.  I  would  see  the  pleasure  I 
gave,  without  submitting  myself  to  the  gratitude. 
I  saw  this  was  a  mistake,  and  remembered  it  was 
a  pleasure  to  give  thanks.  I  felt  this  when 
Davie's  mother  knew,  at  last,  who  it  was  had 
cared  for  her  girls,  and  had  brought  Davie  and 
herself  into  greater  ease.  I  felt  it  in  Davie's  last 
glances  before  he  died,  in  his  mother's  words 
of  true  thankfulness,  in  her  pleasure  that  the 
last  comforts  that  soothed  him,  some  of  the  joys 


118  THE  THIRD   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

that  helped  him  forget  his  pains,  were  owing 
to  me. 

"  There  was  joy  in  meeting  Reuben  again,  in 
seeing  him  freed  from  want,  his  children  at 
school,  and  in  bringing  his  youngest  girl  home 
for  my  own.  It  was  not  boundless  wealth  that 
my  uncle  wanted  to  share  with  us.  We  were 
helped  by  the  '  little  more '  that  is  longed  for  by 
the  very  poor,  the  satisfaction  of  which  disap- 
pears in  the  superfluity  of  the  very  rich.  Many 
joys  have  gathered  round  me.  Yet  I  see  that  the 
burden  I  bear  now  is  not  different  from  that  I 
wore  in  my  days  of  poverty  ;  it  is  shutting  up  my- 
self in  myself,  dreaming  of  doing  good  to  others, 
sometimes  helping  them,  but  seldom  by  giving 
my  whole  self  to  them." 

This  was  my  sermon  for  the  day,  as  we  sat  to- 
gether before  the  fire,  and  the  storm  raged  with- 
out. I  heard  more  of  the  sorrows  and  struggles 
of  my  companion's  life.  Then  she  was  silent. 
And  I  leaned  back  in  the  comfort  of  my  chair, 
and  thought  of  the  contrast  between  poor  and  rich. 
I  looked  round  upon  the  luxuries  about  me,  and 
wondered  what  was  my  right  to  them,  while  want 
and  suffering  waited  outside.  I  thought  over  my 
own  weakness,  my  frequent  thoughtlessness  to- 
wards those  who  were  dependent  upon  me,  less 
happy  in  their  circumstances  than  I. 

And  I  bent  my  head  in  prayer.     I  prayed  that 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  119 

I  might  never  forget  my  duty  to  those  so  near 
to  me,  might  never  shut  them  out  from  my  sym- 
pathy, might  never  forget  to  treat  kindly  and 
thoughtfully  those  who  might  labor  for  me,  —  I 
could  bring  them  pleasure  and  encouragement : 
I  prayed  that  I  might  help  the  many  laborers,  the 
many  desolate  ones,  with  whom  the  earth  is  full ; 
that  I  might  bring  the  cup  of  cold  water  even,  to 
one  of  the  little  ones. 

What  a  great  favor  to  ask !  If  God  would  but 
grant  the  power,  to  bring  help  to  the  weary,  food 
to  the  starving ! 

For  said  Jesus,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it 
unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it 
unto  me! " 

In  the  afternoon  my  companion  asked  me  to 
read  to  her,  and  begged  that  I  would  choose  her 
two  favorite  passages  in  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment. This  I  did,  and  afterwards  she  wanted 
me  to  read  her  something  more.  I  had  a  volume 
of  German  sermons,  by  Tholuck,  and  read  to 
her  some  of  the  subjects  of  them,  that  she  might 
herself  select  one.  She  chose  a  sermon  on  this 
subject :  "  Why  the  Christian  should  count  temp- 
tation and  trial  as  nothing  but  joy." 

PSALM  xlii. 

As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  so 
panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  0  God.     My  soul 


120  THE  THIRD   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living  God :  when  shall 
I  come  and  appear  before  God  ?  My  tears  have 
been  my  meat  day  and  night,  while  they  continu- 
ally say  unto  me,  Where  is  thy  God  ? 

When  I  remember  these  things,  I  pour  out  my 
soul  in  me :  for  I  had  gone  with  the  multitude ;  I 
went  with  them  to  the  house  of  God,  with  the 
voice  of  joy  and  praise,  with  a  multitude  that 
kept  holyday. 

Why  art  thou  cast  down,  0  my  soul  ?  and  why 
art  thou  disquieted  in  me  ?  Hope  thou  in  God  ; 
for  I  shall  yet  praise  him  for  the  help  of  his  coun- 
tenance. 

O  my  God,  my  soul  is  cast  down  within  me : 
therefore  will  I  remember  thee  from  the  land  of 
Jordan,  and  of  the  Hermonites,  from  the  hill 
Mizar. 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep  at  the  noise  of  thy 
water-spouts :  all  thy  waves  and  thy  billows  are 
over  me. 

Yet  the  Lord  will  command  his  loving-kindness 
in  the  daytime,  and  in  the  night  his  song  shall 
be  with  me,  and  my  prayer  unto  the  God  of  my 
life.  I  will  say  unto  God  my  rock,  Why  hast 
thou  forgotten  me  ?  Why  go  I  mourning  be- 
cause of  the  oppression  of  the  enemy  ?  As  with 
a  sword  in  my  bones,  mine  enemies  reproach  me ; 
while  they  say  daily  unto  me,  Where  is  thy  God  ? 

Why  art  thou  cast  down,  0  my  soul  ?  and  why 


THE  DAILY  BREAD.  121 

art  thou  disquieted  within  me  ?  Hope  thou  in 
God  ;  for  I  shall  yet  praise  him,  who  is  the  health 
of  my  countenance,  and  my  God. 

JOHN  xiv. 

Let  not  your  heart  he  troubled  :  ye  believe  in 
God,  believe  also  in  me. 

In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions  :  if 
it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you.  I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  you. 

And  if  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you,  I  will 
come  again,  and  receive  you  unto  myself;  that 
where  I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also.  And  whither 
I  go  ye  know,  and  the  way  ye  know. 

Thomas  saith  unto  him,  Lord,  we  know  not 
whither  thou  goest ;  and  how  can  we  know  the 
way  ? 

Jesus  saith  unto  him,  I  am  the  way,  and  the 
truth,  and  the  life ;  no  man  cometh  unto  the 
Father  but  by  me. 

If  ye  had  known  me,  ye  should  have  known 
my  Father  also :  and  from  henceforth  ye  know 
him,  and  have  seen  him. 

Philip  saith  unto  him,  Lord,  show  us  the  Fa- 
ther, and  it  sufficeth  us. 

Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Have  I  been  so  long  time 
with  you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  me,  Phil- 
ip ?  He  that  hath  seen  me,  hath  seen  the  Father ; 
and  how  sayest  thou  then,  Show  us  the  Father  ? 


122  THE   THIRD    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

Believest  thou  not  that  I  am  in  the  Father,  and 
the  Father  in  me  ?  The  words  that  I  speak  unto 
you,  I  speak  not  of  myself;  but  the  Father  that 
dwelleth  in  me,  he  doeth  the  works. 
,  Believe  me  that  I  am  in  the  Father,  and  the 
Father  in  me  :  or  else  believe  me  for  the  very 
works'  sake. 

Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  He  that  believ- 
eth  on  me,  the  works  that  I  do  shall  he  do  also  ; 
and  greater  works  than  these  shall  he  do ;  because 
I  go  unto  my  Father. 

And  whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  my  name,  that 
will  I  do,  that  the  Father  may  be  glorified  in  the 
Son.  If  ye  shall  ask  anything  in  my  name,  I 
will  do  it 

Peace  I  leave  with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto 
you  ;  not  as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you. 
Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be 
afraid.  Ye  have  heard  how  I  said  unto  you,  I 
go  away,  and  come  again  unto  you.  If  ye  loved 
me,  ye  would  rejoice,  because  I  said,  I  go  unto 
the  Father ;  for  my  Father  is  greater  than  I. 

And  now  I  have  told  you  before  it  come  to 
pass,  that  when  it  is  come  to  pass  ye  might  be- 
lieve. Hereafter  I  will  not  talk  much  with  you  ; 
for  the  prince  of  this  world  cometh,  and  hath 
nothing  in  me. 

But  that  the  world  may  know  that  I  love  the 
Father;  and  as  the  Father  gave  me  command- 
ment, even  so  I  do. 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  123 


SERMON. 

BY  DR.   A.   THOLUCK. 

When  we  meet  again  after  a  separation,  we  ask 
of  each  other  how  the  time  has  been  passing  since 
we  parted,  and  the  answer  is,  "  Well,"  if  indeed 
it  has  gone  by  and  no  temptation  has  tried  us. 
With  envy  do  we  look  upon  the  happy  ones  near 
us  whose  tree  of  life  the  storms  have  never  shak- 
en ;  with  joy  do  we  look  back  upon  a  year  where 
the  little  ship  of  life  has  glided  gently  on  over 
smooth  waves ;  and  what  would  we  not  give  if  we 
could  buy  for  ourselves  such  a  future  even  to  the 
end  ?  This  wish,  indeed,  to  rest  free  from  temp- 
tation, is  not  to  be  blamed.  Man's  nature  shrinks 
and  flies  from  what  brings  it  sorrow  and  ruin. 
The  Lord  of  our  salvation  prayed,  "If  it  be  pos- 
sible, let  this  cup  pass  from  me,"  and  for  us,  his 
brethren,  has  he  placed  this  prayer  on  our  lips : 
"  Lead  us  not  into  temptation."  But  though 
the  Lord  of  our  salvation  prayed,  "  Father,  if  it  be 
possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me,"  yet  he  must 
needs  drink  of  the  cup ;  and  although  we,  God's 
children,  pray,  "  Father,  lead  us  not  into  tempta- 
tion," yet  is  there  temptation  from  within,  temp- 
tation from  without,  temptation  from  below, 
temptation  from  above.  Then  must  temptation 
and  trial  indeed  have  their  good  part ;  a  treasure 


124  THE  THIRD   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

must  lie  concealed  therein  for  those  who  know 
how  to  hear  with  them ;  for  from  above,  from  the 
Father  of  lights,  come  naught  but  good  and  per- 
fect gifts.  This  light  side  of  temptation  let  us 
reflect  upon  in  our  devotions  of  to-day,  and  at 
the  urgency  of  the  Apostle  James  in  the  first 
chapter  of  his  epistle  to  the  disciples  of  our 
Lord  :  — 

"My  brethren,  count  it  all  joy,  when  ye  fall 
into  divers  temptations." 

Do  you  understand, this,  you  upon  whom  God's 
hand  rests  heavily?  Do  you  understand  this, 
children  of  the  world,  fearful  of  sorrow,  who  are 
happy  when  you  can  cry,  "  Let  us  make  use  of 
life  while  it  is  here  "  ?  "  Count  it  all  joy,"  cries 
the  Apostle,  "  when  ye  fall  into  divers  tempta- 
tions." With  what  he  says  here  a  Paul  can 
sympathize  when  he  cries,  "  We  glory  in  tribula- 
tions also  "  ;  and  again,  "  A  godly  sorrow  work- 
eth  repentance  to  salvation  not  to  be  repented 
of.  And  the  Apostle  Peter:  "  Beloved,  think 
it  not  strange  concerning  the  fiery  trial  which  is 
to  try  you,  as  though  some  strange  thing  hap- 
pened to  you,  but  rejoice  inasmuch  as  ye  are  par- 
takers of  Christ's  sufferings,  that,  when  his  glory 
shall  be  revealed,  ye  may  be  glad  also  with  ex- 
ceeding joy."  And  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews : 
"  For  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth,  and 
scourgeth  every  man  whom  he  receiveth.     If  ye 


THE  DAILY  BREAD.  125 

endure  chastening,  God  dealeth  with  you  as  with 
sons ;  for  what  son  is  he  whom  the  Father  chas- 
teneth  not  ? "  You  see  the  Scriptures  give  a 
different  view  of  sorrow  and  affliction  from  that  of 
the  carnal  man.  The  Christian,  it  is  true,  prays, 
in  a  consciousness  of  his  weakness,  "  Father,  lead 
me  not  into  temptation  "  ;  but  when  temptation 
does  come,  the  joy '  of  victory  flushes  his  brow 
while  his  eyes  overflow  with  tears. 

How  it  is  that  the  Christian  counts  his  temp- 
tation as  nothing  but  joy,  —  let  this  be  the  subject 
of  our  to-day's  consideration.  We  answer  this 
question  when  we  say,  first,  he  knows  whence  it 
comes  ;  secondly,  he  knows  whither  it  leads. 

He  knows  whence  it  comes ; — from  the  Father 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  from  the  all-powerful, 
all- wise,  all-good  Creator  of  heaven  and  earth.  0 
that  those  who  bear  the  name  of  Christians  cer- 
tainly knew  all  this !  —  then  a  half  of  the  burden 
of  their  temptation  were  taken  from  them.  They 
know  it  perhaps,  all  who  dwell  far  over  Christen- 
dom, but  do  they  believe  it  also,  believe  it  with 
undoubting  confidence  ?  That  there  is  an  Al- 
mighty Power  that  upholds  the  world  and  brings 
forth  the  little  dust  that  is  called  man,  this  they 
believe  indeed.  They  hear  the  all-powerful  storm 
that  rolls  along  the  wheel  of  an  immeasurable 
creation ;  they  hear  the  step  of  a  giant  spirit  that 
strides  through  the  generations  of  men,  and  see 
11* 


126  THE  THIRD   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

that  irresistible  hand  that  here  calls  a  world  from 
nothingness,  and  there  extinguishes  a  sun.  But 
what  kind  of  a  power  this  is,  what  thoughts. or 
aims  the  unknown  Almighty  Spirit  has,  — that  his 
power  is  the  power  of  fatherly  wisdom  and  love, 
— this  is  too  difficult  for  them  to  believe.  0,  and 
this  unbelief,  indeed,  can  make  every  sorrow  in- 
supportable, entering  like  a  little  drop  unobserved 
in  an  ocean.  But  its  waves  pour  forth  from 
unknown  sources,  and  lead  towards  a  goal  that  no 
one  knows. 

There  are  indeed  some  strong  spirits,  who  with 
such  a  faith,  when  temptation  and  adversity  press 
upon  them,  as  upon  an  armed  man,  are  not 
crushed,  but  remain  standing,  like  the  traveller 
who  covers  himself  from  the  raging  storm  in 
his  mantle,  and  plants  his  foot  firmly  upon  the 
earth.  Resignation,  so  they  call  the  iron  shield 
which  they  oppose  to  the  arrows  that  are  hurled 
upon  them  from  distant,  unknown  heights.  Cold 
and  iron,  as  their  hearts,  is  their  consolation. 
They  are  often  met  with  in  life,  these  mailed 
men,  whom  the  fiery  trial  of  the  Lord,  instead  of 
melting,  has  changed  to  stone  ;  but  can  it  be 
otherwise,  when  the  power  which  must  try  man 
in  the  crucible  of  affliction  is  not  recognized  as 
the  power  of  a  fatherly  wisdom  and  loVe  ?  0 
those  of  you  who  have  taken  to  heart  the  voice  of 
that  Son  who  has  made  manifest  to  us  the  Fa- 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  127 

ther, —  the  Father,  whom  no  one  has  seen  but  the 
only-begotten  Son  who  has  rested  in  his  bosom, — 
fall  down  with  blessed  thankfulness  that  ye  know 
that  all  our  temptation  is  ordered  by  the  wisdom 
of  a  father,  and  is  guided  by  a  fatherly  love  !  It 
is  ordered  by  the  wisdom  of  a  father,  and  guided 
by  a  fatherly  love  ;  for  "  we  know,"  says  the 
Apostle,  "  that  all  things  work  together  for  good 
to  them  that  love  God,  to  them  who  are  the 
called  according  to  his  purpose."  The  Scrip- 
tures lead  us  back  to  the  very  origin  of  eternity 
before  the  world's  foundation.  Then  did  the 
Father  lay  down  his  purpose  to  glorify  and  jus- 
tify as  many  of  those  who  became  flesh  who 
would  receive  the  word  unto  blessedness.  Could 
you,  Christian  brethren,  of  yourselves,  rise  to  the 
thought  that  far  on  in  eternity,  when  the  day  of 
judgment  will  be  held,  and  the  former  heaven  and 
earth  shall  be  no  more,  —  that  all  which  then  will 
be  fulfilled  in  you  has  already,  before  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world,  been  before  the  eye  of  God,  to 
whom,  as  the  Scripture  says,  all  his  creatures 
have  been  known  from  eternity,  and  who  has 
chosen  you  in  Christ  Jesus !  But  so  says  the 
Apostle,  "  Whom  he  did  predestinate,  (that  is, 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world,)  them  he  also 
called  ;  and  whom  he  called,  them  he  also  jus- 
tified ;  and  whom  he  justified,  them  he  also  glo- 
rified."    Do  you  know  this,  Christian  soul,  you 


128  THE   THIRD   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

know  also  that  each  one  of  your  temptations, 
every  hou?  of  sorrow,  has  been  ordered  in  the 
eternal  plan  of  that  spirit  of  peace  that  a  divine 
wisdom  and  love  feels  towards  you.  From  eter- 
nity down,  the  hour  is  counted  when  your  temp- 
tation shall  begin ;  so  is  the  hour  counted  when  it 
shall  pass  away.  So  are  all  the  bitter  drops  reck- 
oned that  shall  fall  into  your  cup ;  so  is  the 
measure  weighed  out  how  far  the  scale  of  afflic- 
tion shall  sink,  and  it  will  fall  not  a  finger's  breadth 
farther !  0  what  a  thought,  consoling  beyond 
all  measure,  that  the  Apostle  utters,  —  "  He  will 
suffer  no  one  to  be  tempted  beyond  that  he  is 
able  "  !  There  are  moments  in  life  when  indeed 
the  pain  and  agony  of  temptation  reach  such  a 
point,  that  one  may  think,  "  Is  there  one  drop 
more  in  the  cup,  I  am  lost!  "  Ye  who  neither 
know  nor  believe  in  the  Father  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  —  wherefore  do  ye  know  that  this  drop 
will  not  fall  ?  The  very  anxiety  that  it  might 
fall, —  and  all  were  then  over  with  you,  —  this 
alone  agonizes  the  soul !  O,  blessed  is  the  Chris- 
tian who  can  believe  in  the  word  of  inspiration, — 
"  God  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  tempted  beyond  that 
ye  are  able  "  !  You  know  with  confidence,  however 
great  struggle  the  Lord  gives,  he  gives  as  much 
power;  however  great  the  trial,  he  gives  as  much 
patience.  It  sounds  to  you  no  longer  wonderful 
when  the  Apostle  cries,  "  My  brethren,  count  it 
all  joy,  when  ye  fall  into  divers  temptations. " 


THE    DAILY   BREAD.  129 

Why  lie  should  consider  it  as  joy,  the  Chris- 
tian knows  ;  for  he  knows  not  merely  whence  the 
trial  comes,  but  whither  it  leads  him.  Diversely 
as  the  rounds  of  the  ladder  may  be  placed,  it  is 
the  declaration  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  that  trib- 
ulation is  a  heavenly  ladder,  which  reaches  from 
earth,  where  suffering  is  born,  to  heaven,  in 
whose  blessings  it  is  lost.  For  Paul  says  to  us, 
"  We  glory  in  tribulations  also  ;  knowing  that 
tribulation  worketh  patience,  and  patience  expe- 
rience, and  experience  hope,  and  hope  maketh 
not  ashamed."  And  lest  any  one  should  doubt 
of  this,  God  himself  has  impressed  his  seal  upon 
it,  a  convincing  seal,  —  "  Because,"  Paul  contin- 
ues to  say,  "  the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  in 
our  hearts  by  the  Holy  Ghost  which  is  given  to 
us."  Let  us  then  consider  how  temptation  leads 
us  to  that  issue,  by  which  our  hope  maketh  not 
ashamed.  That  wound  must  be  very  deep,  that 
requires  the  deep  cut  of  the  surgeon  to  heal  it. 
Is  this  true,  how  deep  must  the  wound  be 
from  which  mankind  suffers,  when  we  see  in 
what  strong  expressions  the  Scriptures  speak  of 
the  necessity  of  temptation  and  sorrow  for  the 
purification  and  perfecting  of  man  !  "  He  that 
findeth  his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  he  that  loseth 
his  life  for  my  sake  shall  find  it,"  says  the  Sav- 
iour. "  He  that  taketh  not  his  cross,  and  fol- 
io weth  after  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me."     "  For 


130  THE   THIRD    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

every  one  shall  be  salted  with  fire,  and  every 
sacrifice  shall  be  salted  with  salt."  Death,  the 
cross,  the  salt  of  fire,  are  the  gateways  to  be 
entered  by  every  new  man  who  is  newly  born 
and  fleshly  created  after  the  image  of  God.  It 
were  easy  indeed,  many  times,  to  fancy  that  there 
might  be  smoother  ways.  Shall  not  the  gentle 
sunshine  which  falls  upon  the  rocky  valleys  of 
our  earthly  life,  shall  not  the  stream  of  good  and 
perfect  gifts,  that,  like  the  torrent  from  the  moun- 
tain-top, pours  down  unceasingly  from  the  Fa- 
ther of  lights,  — shall  not  these  be  able  to  soften 
a  hard  heart  ?  We  have  moments  in  our  inner 
life,  hours  of  a  thankful  heart  tender  and  ashamed 
like  that  of  a  child,  when  it  seems  inconceivable 
that  this  is  not  the  case.  But,  in  fact,  it  is  not 
the  case.  In  the  pillars  of  fire  by  night  must 
God  appear  to  man,  in  the  cloudy  pillar  by  day 
he  passes  by  unmarked.  Tribulation  first  teach- 
es us  to  know  ourselves  ;  it  first  teaches  us  to 
pray.  Therefore  does  the  Christian  congrega- 
tion sing :  — 

"  Cross,  I  greet  thee  from  my  heart ! 
Enter,  welcome  guest ! 
Pain  of  thine  will  bring  no  smart, 
Thy  burden  is  my  rest ! 

"  Christ  stands  always  by  his  own, 
His  love  stands  near  their  fears, 
By  the  pathway  where  the  cross 
They  bear  with  dropping  tears." 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  131 

Therefore  does  the  Christian,  congregation  be- 
lieve it,  when  the  Apostle  cries,  "  Count  it  all 
joy,  when  ye  fall  into  divers  temptations." 

Temptation  and  trial  teach  us  to  know  our- 
selves. "  There  was  a  man  in  the  land  of  Uz, 
whose  name  was  Job  ;  and  that  man  was  perfect 
and  upright,  and  one  that  feared  God,  and  es- 
chewed" evil.  And  there  was  a  day  when  his 
sons  and  daughters  were  eating  and  drinking 
wine  in  their  eldest  brother's  house.  Then  came 
the  Sabeans  and  slew  the  servants  with  the  edge 
of  the  sword  ;  then  fell  fire  from  heaven,  and 
burned  the  sheep  and  the  servants  ;  then  came 
the  Chaldeans,  and  carried  away  the  camels ; 
then  came  a  great  wind,  from  the  wilderness,  and 
smote  the  four  corners  of  the  house,  and  it  fell 
upon  the  sons  and  daughters,  so  that  they  died. 
Then  Job  arose  and  rent  his  mantle,  and  shaved 
his  head,  and  fell  down  upon  the  ground  and 
worshipped,  and  said,  Naked  came  I  out  of  my 
mother's  womb,  and  naked  shall  I  return  thither; 
the  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away ; 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.  In  all  this 
Job  sinned  not,  nor  charged  God  foolishly." 

And  who  of  you  thinks  not  now,  that  he  has 
seen  into  the  inner  soul  of  this  good  man  ?  But, 
friends,  within  the  inner  shrine  of  a  man's  heart 
lies  an  innermost,  and  that  was  not  yet  disclosed. 

"  And  Satan  answered  the  Lord  and  said,  All 


132  THE   THIRD    STORMY  SUNDAY. 

that  a  man  hath  he  will  give  for  his  life.  But 
put  forth  thine  hand  now,  and  touch  his  bone  and 
flesh,  and  he  will  curse  thee  to  the  face.  And 
the  Lord  said  to  Satan,  Behold,  he  is  in  thine 
hand ;  but  save  his  life.  So  went  Satan  forth 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  smote  him 
with  sore  boils  from  the  sole  of  his  foot  unto  his 
crown. "  Then,  then  first  is  the  innermost  soul 
unclosed,  and  you  behold  him  upright  towards 
God.  0  you  who  foolishly  do  not  desire  to  know 
anything  of  any  dark  abyss  in  your  hearts,  and 
who  fancy  your  shoulders  are  strong  enough  for 
even  the  trials  of  Job,  "  Ye  have  not  yet  resisted 
unto  blood,  striving  against  sin,"  —  so  the  Apostle 
cries  to  you. 

No,  a  dark  recess  does  every  man  bear  in  his 
heart.  From  this  in  the  hour  of  trial  rises,  first, 
a  doubt  of  God's  word  and  promise,  then  a  mur- 
muring against  God's  will  and  decree,  and  deep, 
deep  in  the  innermost  shrine  hides  at  last  the 
worm  that  whispers,  "-Bid  God  farewell !  "  And 
it  is  true  they  are  not  the  thorns  of  an  outward 
sorrow  that  make  the  hours  of  temptation  so  bit- 
ter for  the  Christian.  0,  much  sharper  and  more 
biting  does  the  anguish  feed  upon  his  soul,  that 
the  angels  of  faith,  hope,  and  love  forsake  him, 
and  that  instead  he  hears  the  rustling  of  the  wings 
of  the  Prince  of  darkness,  —  that  in  his  own 
heart,  which  would  so  willingly  worship,  there 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  133 

must  enter  doubt,  murmuring,  and  perverseness 
towards  his  God,  —  this  is  his  sorrow.  And  so 
long  as  just  this  sorrow  and  pain  have  not  passed 
away,  so  long  is  help  still  here.  But  if  this  pain 
dies  away,  if  the  soul  becomes  indifferent  to  doubt, 
murmuring,  and  pride,  then  all  the  stars  in  heav- 
en disappear ;  then  is  it  wholly  night,  and  morn- 
ing twilight  comes  perhaps  never  again. 

In  such  trials  by  fire  does  the  Christian  learn 
what  he  is  himself.  The  opinion  that  many  have 
expressed  is  just,  that  they  are  the  most  faithful 
and  the  truest  servants  whom  God  is  wont  to  try 
with  such  severe  fires  of  temptation.  But  who  but 
these  could  bear  such  trial  ?  Have  you  not  yet 
been  carried  into  such  depths  and  abysses  ?  0, 
look  not  upon  that  of  which  the  holy  ones  of  God 
speak,  as  the  mere  vain  image  of  a  dream,  but 
thank  the  goodness  of  God,  who  verifies  to  you 
that  he  tries  u  no  one  beyond  that  he  is  able." 
Will  you  indeed  begin,  as  the  Saviour  calls  it,  to 
"put  on  the  power  of  the  kingdom,"  —  would 
your  Christianity  grow  more  earnest,  —  then  will 
the  time  of  the  trial  by  fire  come  for  you  also ; 
but  fear  it  not,  —  then,  then  will  you  experi- 
ence, with  all  the  disciples  of  the  Lord,  that  the 
Apostle  says  with  truth,  "  My  brethren,  count  it 
all  joy,  when  ye  fall  into  divers  temptations." 

Did  we,  indeed,  in  the  fire  of  this  temptation, 
learn  to  know  nothing,  but  ourselves,  and  the 
12 


134  THE  THIRD   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

greatness  of  our  power  of  being  tempted,  this 
were  something  to  be  complained  of.  But  we 
learn  also  in  the  heat  of  our  temptation  to  know 
God,  his  righteousness,  his  pity,  and  his  power. 

We  learn  to  know  his  righteousness.  It  is  true, 
evil  upon  earth  is  not  distributed  according  to  the 
measure  of  personal  guilt.  In  a. certain  measure, 
each  one  must  partake  of  the  suffering  from  the 
guilt  of  the  community,  and  bear  his  part  of  it. 
Therefore,  indeed,  is  the  trial  which  brings  us 
most  sorrow  at  times  not  self-incurred.  Yet  with 
the  evil  which  he  has  not  called  upon  his  own 
person,  the  Christian  goes  back  to  his  innermost 
recess,  and  there  becomes  aware  what  he  has 
committed  himself.  It  teaches  him,  that  the  sin 
which  can  have  such  evil  in  its  consequences  is 
especially  a  detestation  to  God ;  and  while  he  feels 
this  freshly,  he  bows  himself  in  the  consciousness 
of  that  which  in  himself  is  displeasing  to  the  holy 
God.  Yet  how  many  cases  there  are  when  the 
trial  which  comes  upon  him  comes  through  his* 
own  guilt!  0  how  often  they  are  the  sins  of 
youth,  which  return  to  rest  upon  the  gray  head 
with  a  burning  heat !  0  often  it  is  a  con- 
cealed guilt,  that  no  man  but  yourself — only 
God  —  knows  !  Men  come  and  show  you  their 
sympathy,  and  weep  over  you  as  unfortunate; 
but  you  know  of  the  worm  that  gnaws  within, 
and  weep  over  yourself  the  repentant  tears  of 


THE   DAILY-  BREAD.  135 

guilt.  So  long  as  your  sin  did  not  bring  you  to 
judgment,  you  knew  how  to  speak  of  the  forbear- 
ing love  of  God ;  now  you  know  that  the  Apos- 
tle's saying  is  true,  "  Be  not  deceived,  God  is 
not  mocked,"  and  "  Our  God  is  a  consuming 
fire."  0  young  men  !  let  me  for  this  cause  warn 
you,  "  Flee  the  lusts  of  youth  " ;  they  may  other- 
wise fall  upon  your  head  when  it  is  gray,  and 
may  bring  forth  the  account  when  you  have  but 
one  more  step  to  the  judgment. 

In  the  midst  of  the  proofs  of  his  righteousness, 
God  allows  his  pity  and  his  power  also  to  be  rec- 
ognized in  tribulation.  Friends,  how  many  hun- 
dred times  do  we  repeat,  that  all  that  we  have  are 
the  gifts  of  his  goodness ;  but  do  we  inwardly  feel 
what  we  say  once  in  a  hundred  times  ?  Were 
we  inwardly  conscious  of  this,  0  friends  !  at  every 
fresh  breath  we  draw  from  our  breast  giving  us 
the  feeling  of  life,  —  did  we  inwardly  recognize 
it  at  every  glance  at  the  beauty  of  nature,  at  the 
very  sight  of  our  home,  or  farm,  or  wife,  or  child, 
or  all  that  we  can  call  our  own, — then  our  hearts 
had  long  ago  become  temples  of  God.  A  man 
in  whom  each  healthy  pulsation,  each  free  breath, 
awakens  the  tone  of  a  prayer  of  thanks,  must, 
under  such  a  constant  devotional  sounding  of 
bells  and  singing  of  praises  within,  be  built  up 
freshly  as  a  man  of  God.  To  say  that  all  is  a 
gift  of  God,  and  to  feel  it  inwardly,  —  these  are 


186  THE  THIRD   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

two  different  things,  between  which  often  an  im- 
measurable gulf  is  fixed.  .  On  the  bed  of  sick- 
ness, when  the  stifled  breast  cannot  draw  a  single 
breath,  do  you  first  become  inwardly  conscious 
that  each  fresh  draught  of  breath  is  a  gift  of  God ! 
When  the  death-angel  stirs  his  wings  over  the 
soul  that  is  dear  to  you,  do  you  first  learn  to 
know  inwardly  that  this  soul  was  a  gift  of  God ! 
In  temptation,  when  the  time  of  blessedness  in 
faith,  the  time  of  peace  in  the  sonship  of  God, 
appears  to  you  like  a  past  dream  which  you  can 
with  difficulty  recall,  —  then  first  do  you  inward- 
ly know  that  each  drop  of  the  peace  of  God  is  a 
gift  of  God  !  For  this  reason  we  have  seen  some- 
times Christians  whom  the  Lord  has  led  in  their 
lives  through  very  severe  trials,  who  have  borne 
in  the  end  so  tender  a  heart,  that  at  every  blade 
of  grass  and  at  every  kindly  ray  of  sunlight  their 
eyes  overflow  on  account  of  the  undeserved  pity 
of  their  God. 

With  this  pity  you  can  also  experience  his 
power.  Sometimes  it  happens  that  you  lie  in  an 
abyss,  and  even  the  smallest  thread  is  taken  away 
from  you  on  which  you  can  seize  and  rise  again ; 
and  not  before  you  are  inwardly  conscious  that 
no  other  hand  than  that  from  the  clouds  can  help 
you,  does  it  bear  you  upwards  to  the  heights. 
Then  do  Christians  learn  what  it  is  to  trust  to 
nothing  transitory,  then   they   learn   "  to   hope 


THE   DAILY  BREAD.  137 

when  there  is  nothing  to  hope,  to  hold  on  to  the 
invisible  as  though  the}'  beheld  it." 

In  such  trials  the  soul  learns  to  pray.  Alas 
that  man  himself  is  obliged  to  learn  prayer 
through  trial !  What  would  you  think  of  the 
child  who  must  first  learn  by  blows  to  thank  and 
to  pray  to  his  father  ?  With  invincible  power, 
like  the  stream  that  has  been  withheld,  should 
prayer  break  out  from  the  heart  of  every  child  of 
man.  Joyous  and  blest  should  we  exult,  that 
we  may  venture  to  speak  to  Him  whom  the 
heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain,  and  lay  our 
little  cares  upon  the  great  heart  of  the  Creator  of 
the  world.  Do  you  know  how  I  think  it  would 
appear  if  a  mortal  could  not  venture  to  pray  ? 
As  if  the  wide,  clear  sky  of  heaven  above  us 
through  which  the  eye  penetrates  as  into  the 
sanctuary  of  God,  were  covered  and  hidden  with 
garments  of  the  grave.  Both  in  height  and 
width  would  the  prospect  be  wanting.  0  how 
indescribably  narrow  would  it  be  for  man  !  Now 
we  are  permitted  to  pray,  and  lo  !  we  forget  it, 
and  the  scourge  must  first  be  brandished  over  us 
before  we  think  of  it.  Yes,  it  is  terrible  to  say 
that  in  truth  there  are  men  in  Christendom  who 
pray  only  when  there  is  a  storm  in  the  heavens. 
And  scarcely  has  the  thunder  ceased  to  resound, 
when  the  lips  are  still,  and  remain  still  till  a  new 
thunder-bolt  rings  again.  It  is  a  terrible  experi- 
12* 


138  THE  THIRD   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

ence  that  only  the  lightning-shafts  of  heaven  are 
the  ladders  by  which  prayer  climbs  upward  to 
heaven,  when  it  could  and  should  rise  by  every 
beam  of  sunlight  that  has  trickled  down  from 
heaven !  But  so  it  is,  man  learns  his  dependence 
upon  God  and  his  own  guilt  first  when  God  ap- 
pears in  the  pillars  of  cloud  by  night,  and  I  dare 
to  say  it  certainly  of  all  of  us,  that  trial  has  first 
taught  us  to  pray  with  fervor.  If  then,  as  the 
body  is  dead  without  the  beating  of  the  pulse,  so 
the  soul  is  dead  without  prayer ;  and  if  we  do  not 
learn  to  pray  without  trial  and  temptation,  0  how 
then  could  we  do  without  them  ?  Who  then 
would  not  sing  to  the  cross: 

"  Cross,  I  greet  thee  from  my  heart ! 
Enter,  welcome  guest ! 
Pain  of  thine  will  bring  no  smart ; 
Thy  burden  is  a  rest ! " 

How  shall  we  not  grant  that  the  Apostle  is  right, 
who  cries  to  us,  "  Count  it  all  joy,  when  ye  fall 
into  divers  temptations  "  ? 

But  while  I  now  place  before  you  the  blessings 
of  trial  and  temptation,  I  remember,  at  the  same 
time,  those  for  whom  what  is  meant  by  that  little 
word  "  trial "  has  remained  so  far  unknown. 
You  believe  what  I  have  been  preaching  to  you ; 
you  are  inwardly  conscious  of  it ;  you  have  till 
now  learnt  to  know  neither  the  Lord  nor  your- 
selves intimately ;  you  feel  earnestly,  "  My  stony 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  139 

heart  must  be  crushed :  .0  that  He  would  cast  me 
to  the  ground  three  times  with  his  all-powerful 
arm,  that  so  I  might  become  weak  and  like  melt- 
ing clay  in  his  hands !  "  You  who  are  convinced 
that  you  need  some  lightning-bolt  to  rouse  you, 
some  earthquake  to  shatter  the  old  temples  of 
idolatry,  —  what  must  you  do  ?  What  does  to- 
day's sermon  teach  you  ?  Shall  you  pray,  shall 
you  entreat,  "  0  Lord,  why  so  long-suffering  ? 
Chasten  me  in  thine  anger !  Haste  and  send  thy 
lightning  and  thy  thunder  !  "  I  know  there  are 
blameless  hearts  who  are  many  times  alarmed  at 
the  continued  sunshine  over  their  heads.  You 
know  the  story  of  Polycrates,  of  the  ring  that  in 
despair  he  sacrificed  to  the  waves  of  the  sea,  that 
he  might  in  one  point  be  unhappy.  It  is  a  story 
full  of  meaning.  There  are  those  among  us  to 
whom  such  thoughts  are  not  unusual. 

And  yet,  beloved,  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ 
offers  not  the  example  of  Polycrates.  It  forbids 
you  to  hold  the  scales  in  your  own  hand,  but  rest 
them  rather  in  God's  hand,  who  can  weigh  out 
how  much  your  shoulders  can  bear,  because  it  is 
written,  "  God  is  faithful,  who  will  not  suffer  ye  to 
be  tempted  above  that  ye  are  able."  If  then  his 
thunder-bolt  is  silent  above  you,  while  you  upon 
your  knees  would  pray  for  it,  0  dear  friend !  be 
only  sure  that  you  have  not  known  the  fortitude 
of  your  own  shoulders.    Take  joyously  the  happy 


140  THE  THIRD    STORMY  SUNDAY. 

days  that  He  sends  you,  as  the  proofs  of  his  for- 
bearance, and  be  thankful.  Praise  and  thanks  be 
to  God !  We  Christians  know  not  a  God  who  is' 
jealous  of  the  gifts  that  mortals  enjoy  !  We  only 
know  of  a  Father  in  heaven,  from  whom  "  cometh 
every  good  and  perfect  gift,  with  whom  is  no  va- 
riableness, neither  shadow  of  turning."  But,  my 
brothers,  we  are  so  placed  that  with  regard  to  tri- 
al and  suffering  not  one  of  us  need  to  be  at  a  loss. 
It  is  here,  without  your  needing  to  seek  for  it. 
Could  you  only  take  hold  of  the  great  idea,  that 
we  are  all  members  of  one  body,  and  that  not  a 
single  member  can  be  sick  without  the  whole 
body  suffering  with  it,  then  you  need  not  be  anx- 
ious for  trial.  My  dear  friends,  why  do  you  not 
make  the  trials  of  your  suffering'  brethren  pour 
own  ?  Know  you  not  these  words :  "  Who  is 
weak,  and  I  am  not  weak  ?  Who  is  offended,  and 
I  burn  not  ? "  Know  you  not  Him  who,  though 
in  the  form  of  God,  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a 
servant,  and  humbled  himself  even  to  death ;  be- 
cause he,  as  he  himself  said,  had  not  come  into 
the  world  ato  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minis- 
ter"  ?  0  that  we  only  rightly  understood  how 
to  make  the  sorrows  of  our  fellow-men  our  own, 
—  their  outer  trial,  their  inmost  suffering,  — 
then  should  we  truly  have  not  the  power  to  com- 
plain of  our  want  of  tribulation.  Arise,  then, 
you  who  are  longing  for  tears,  for  necessity,  0 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  141 

go  forth  to-day  and  seek  out  the  weeping  ones 
with  whom  you  can  weep,  —  you  will  not  have 
far  to  go  !  Yes,  if  generally  among  us  Christians 
the  weeping  and  the  rejoicing  with  each  other 
were  only  more  common,  then  were  all  the  meas- 
ures of  suffering  and  sorrow  more  equally  allotted 
among  us.  And  this  might  easily  come  to  pass, 
could  we  truly  picture  one  body  in  Jesus  Christ, 
and  become  one  the  member  of  the  other.  While 
you  suffer  also  in  the  sufferings  of  others,  you  will 
then  also  become  strong,  my  beloved,  so  that 
your  own  shoulders  will  be  able  to  bear  the  bur- 
den of  sorrow;  and  if  you  have  thus  become 
strong,  the  Lord  will  not  remain  behind  with  his 
wholesome  discipline. 


0  God,  come  near  our  hearts  and  soften  them 
with  a  love  for  the  suffering !  Give  us  each  day 
our  daily  bread,  —  not  for  ourselves  alone,  but 
that  we  may  feed  with  it  the  starving.  In  trial 
and  temptation  thou  wouldst  bring  us  near  to 
thee :  help  us  to  find  thee  then !  Let  not  the 
trial  in  our  own  hearts  make  us  forget  those  who 
suffer  from  earthly  wants,  but  may  the  cry  of  the 
desolate  that  is  sent  up  to  thee  reach  our  hearts 
also !  In  the  midst  of  outward  prosperity,  and 
the  sunnier  life  that  thou  hast  given  us,  we  brood 
over  our  selfish  troubles,  and  weep  the  failure  of 


142  THE  THIRD   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

our  poor  ambitions.  0  waken  us  with  a  sympathy 
for  the  poor  and  lonely  whom  thou  hast  given  us 
to  lead  into  more  cheerful  ways  !  May  they  teach 
us  our  duty  here,  that  we  may  carry  into  the 
by-ways  where  want  and  sorrow  are  dwelling, 
some  of  the  joy  that  we  have  found  in  the  rich 
gifts  that  thou  hast  showered  upon  us ! 

Bless  our  homes  with  the  ever-present  thought 
of  thee !  Come  into  our  solitude,  and  strengthen 
us  when  we  come  out  from  the  quiet  of  prayer, 
that  we  may  not  forget  our  love  of  thee,  nor  of 
thy  children ! 


THE   DAILY   BREAD.  143 

PRAYER. 

FROM  THE  GERMAN.* 

0  God,  thy  goodness  far  extends, 

Far  as  the  heavens  above  are  spread, 
But  still  in  mercy  ever  bends, 

And  gently  watches  o'er  my  head. 
My  Shepherd,  Lord,  my  rock,  my  hill, 

My  prayer  accept,  attend  my  word ; 
For  I  will  wait  before  thee  still, 

Till  my  poor  prayer  by  thee  is  heard. 

1  ask  not  for  abounding  wealth, 
The  treasures  of  this  world  below, 

But  what  thou  givest,  joy  or  wealth, 

To  feel  that  all  to  thee  I  owe,  — 
Wisdom,  an  understanding  heart, 

To  know  thee,  and  thy  own  dear  Son, 
Who  came  thy  love  and  truth  to  impart, 

To  know  myself,  an  erring  one. 

I  pray  not  for  repose  or  fame, 

Much  as  for  these  men  toil  and  sigh, 
But  for  a  pure  and  spotless  name, 

To  lose  not,  if  I  live  or  die. 
My  glory  let  my  duty  be, 

My  glory  in  thy  holy  eye, 
While  love  and  smiles  from  pious  friends 

To  cheer  my  heart  be  ever  nigh. 

*  Gellert. 


144  THE   THIRD    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

For  these,  O  God,  I  humbly  pray,   ■ 

Not  for  a  lengthened  life  below, 
Humble,  if  prospered  be  my  day, 

Brave,  if  in  danger's  path  I  go. 
Give  me  but  these^  for  in  thy  hand 

My  times  are  held  ;  thy  love  alone 
Sustains  my  soul ;  and  let  me  stand 

Hopeful  in  death  before  thy  throne. 


THE   FOURTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 


FORGIVENESS. 

"  God,  lift  me  from  the  power 

Of  flesh  corruption ;  how  shall  I 
Bear  to  be  borne  along  with  stainless  flower 
And  fleecy  cloud  on  high ! 

"  God,  lift  up  unto  me 

The  sinning  heart  of  human-kind  ;.    9 
How  can  I  nutter  down  the  skies,  and  see 
Their  errant  souls  and  blind  ! 

"  Or  wrap  me  in  the  light 

That  folds  thy  glory's  outer  zone ; 
Be  thou  the  sole  horizon  to  my  sight, 
Content  in  thee  alone. " 

H.  Alford. 


13 


THE  FOURTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

FORGIVENESS. 

The  sun  rose  clearly  this  morning,  on  a  broad 
field  of  pure  ice.  The  hills  and  the  fields  were 
covered  with  the  white,  crystal  surface.  The 
trees  were  laden  with  brilliant  hanging  icicles. 
I  went  to  the  door,  and  opened  it  to  look  out, 
and  feel  the  clear,  frosty  air.     I  said  to  myself : 

"  Some  butterflies  of  snow  may  float 
Down,  slowly  lingering  in  the  mote  ; 
And  silver-leaved  and  fruited  trees 
Lose  not  a  jewel  in  the  breeze. 
Frost-diamonds  tremble  on  the  glass, 
Transformed  from  pearly  dew, 
And  silver  flowers  encrust  the  grass 
That  gardens  never  knew." 

But  while  I  stood  looking  out,  a  heavy  wind 
rose,  bringing  dark  storm-clouds,  and  before  the 
end  of  an  hour,  again  a  thick  snow  was  falling ; 
and  by  the  time  the  bells  were  ringing  for  church, 
the  roads  were  quite  too  impassable  for  me.  And 
again  I  was  alone. 


148  THE  FOURTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 


• 


One  can  easily  see  that  a  solitary  life  would 
lead  to  selfishness.  Saintine  wrote  a  story  to 
,  prove  that  the  lonely  Robinson  Crusoe,  though 
'  he  might  have  passed  through  hours  of  repent- 
ance, reached  at  last  a  state  no  higher  than  that 
of  the  brutes.  His  solitary  life  made  him  lose 
his  humanity  ;  his  want  of  duties  to  others  made 
him  forget  the  duties  owing  to  himself.  The 
utter  deprivation  of  society,  the  being  denied 
sympathy  or  conversation  with  another,  extin- 
guished all  other  wants  and  needs  but  the  phys- 
ical ones.  Instead  of  being  refined,  he  was  bru- 
tified  ;  and  the  late  visitors  to  the  solitary  island 
saw  its  inhabitant  flying  in  terror  from  the  unac- 
customed sight  of  men. 

This  is  not  the  romantic  idea  of  a  Robinson 
Crusoe  life,  but  it  may  be  a  true  one.  We  can 
see  somewhat  of  the  same  effect,  in  a  modified 
degree,  with  those  who  live  a  partially  lonely  life. 
They  may  not  lose  their  refinement  of  character, 
because  they  can  carry  into  their  solitude  books 
and  a  refining  education  of  the  mind.  But 
what  they  gain  in  individual  strength  they  lose 
in  self-control,  in  the  power  of  governing  them- 
selves for  the  sake  of  yielding  to  others.  We 
detect  in  them  a  selfish  fondness  of  their  own 
ways,  an  unwillingness  to  give  up  to  others  in 
the  little  details  of  life.  And  it  is  the  willing- 
ness to  yield  in  these  smaller  details  that  shows 


FORGIVENESS.  149 

the  influence  of  a  Christian  spirit.  It  is  an  op- 
portunity for  discipline  that  one  who  lives  in  the 
midst  of  his  own  marked-out  ways  is  ignorant  of. 

We  return  to  our  homes,  tired  with  some 
-day's  exertion,  and  find  others  dependent  upon 
our  hearty  sympathy,  upon  our  good  spirits.  We 
have  no  time  to  sit  down  and  nurse  our  ill-humor. 
A  dispirited  word  of  ours' will  throw  one,  two,  or 
more  into  melancholy,  or  set  them  into  a  state  of 
irritation  and  discord.  We  must  exercise  a  di- 
rect self-control,  thrust  away  the  selfish  spirit 
that  would  arise,  that  would  lead  us  to  retire 
within  our  own  troubles,  in  a  fancied  hope  of 
rest. 

Or  we  go  to  see  a  friend  sometimes,  when  we 
are  in  depression  ourselves,  and  want  a  sympa- 
thizing, kind  word  to  excite  us.  Our  burden  has 
grown  too  heavy  for  us  to  bear  alone,  and  now  we 
are  going  to  ask  for  the  assisting  hand  of  a  friend. 
But  we  are  unexpectedly  ushered  into  a  sick- 
room. Instead  of  finding  comfort  and  cheerful- 
ness, we  are  asked  to  bring  it.  We  must  sud- 
denly control  our  own  sadness  in  the  presence  of 
one  who  is  not  able  to  bear  the  expression  of  it. 
Our  own  selfish  trouble  mu§t  give  way  before  the 
trouble  of  another,  and  we  must  give  the  very 
solace  that  we  asked  for. 

There  are  very  many  who  will  say,  that  these 
demands  upon  our  patience  have  done  more  to 

13* 


150  THE   FOURTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

dissipate  our  selfish  troubles  than  any  dwelling 
upon  them,  or  brooding  over  them  in  our  quiet 
thoughts.  The  effort  for  exertion  has  sent  away 
the  languor,  and  given  us  strength.  In  the  end, 
we  are  grateful  to  the  little  interruptions  that 
have  only  disturbed  idle  dreamings  or  selfish 
plans.  We  have  gained  the  power  of  being 
equal  to  the  present  moment,  which  is  a  glorious 
victory,  even  though  that  demand  seemed  petty, 
and  the  renunciation  it  required  seemed  great. 

Sometimes  we  ask,  What  right  have  others  to 
make  such  demand  upon  our  time,  even  upon 
our  temper  ?  We  question  if  it  is  not  an  in- 
fringement upon  our  liberty.  Let  us  ask  our- 
selves, in  turn,  if  we  had  this  precious  liberty  of 
acting  unbound  by  our  duties  to  those  around 
us,  should  we  not  use  it  in  limiting  ourselves  ? 
We  should,  for  instance,  scarcely  make  a  better 
use  of  our  time.  It  is  very  probable  that  we 
should  give  the  time  we  have  saved  from  the 
demands  of  friends  to  idleness,  to  vanity,  and  to 
morbid  selfishness.  And  as  for  oiir  temper,  we 
may  be  very  sure  it  is  of  poor  metal,  if  it  will  not 
stand  the  trying,  and,  sound  as  it  may  be,  it  is  of 
little  use  if  it  is  kept  constantly  in  the  sheath. 
A  few  days  passed  in  solitude  may  convince  us 
of  this.  There  is  very  little  time  gained.  The 
lesser,  daily  acts  of  life  grow  up  into  greater  ones, 
and  require  more  thought  and  time.   Excitements 


FORGIVENESS.  151 

that  seemed  stale  and  powerless  enlarge,  in  the 
absence  of  greater  ones,  into  the  great  excite- 
ments of  the  day,  and  take  their  turn  in  dissipat- 
ing the  thoughts  and  consuming  the  time.  The 
hours  that  are  not  shut  in,  and  marked  by  duties 
that  must  be  paid  to  others,  become  common 
ground,  and  by  and  by  a  waste.  Many  moments 
are  lost  in  indecision,  many  in  indolence.  More 
than  all,  there  is  wanting  the  zest  that  comes 
from  the  presence  of  others,  the  excitement  of 
seeing  others  work,  as  well  as  their  co-operation. 
We  are  willing  to  do  quickly  what  we  do  for  the 
sake  of  another,  or  we  finish  our  own  work  quick- 
ly, that  we  may  be  ready  to  help  others. 

We  are  thrown  in  with  many  people,  some  of 
whom  we  have  chosen  for  our  companions,  and 
some  have  been  thrust  upon  us.  The  question 
arises,  Have  we  duties  to  perform  towards  all  of 
these  ?  Must  we  show  kindness,  must  we  even 
give  up  our  valued  time,  our  well-laid  and  con- 
scientiously approved  plans,  for  the  sake  of  others 
who  happen  to  be  near  us,  —  whom  we  cannot 
love,  whom  we  may  not  even  esteem?  Those 
who  are  filled  with  a  truly  Christian  spirit  are 
not  troubled  by  this  question.  They  have  a  love, 
differing  in  intensity  towards  those  around  them, 
but  sufficiently  deep  to  give  them  a  kindly  feeling 
to  all  who  approach  them.  It  is  no  constrained 
smile  with  which  they  greet  even  the  least  agree- 


152  THE   FOURTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

able  of  those  who  come  within  their  circle.  They 
offer  the  cup  of  cold  water,  without  prompting 
from  any  but  their  own  thoughtful  hearts,  even 
to  the  very  least  of  the  little  ones.  Whether  they 
are  led  so  to  do  by  the  thought  that  "  beings  so 
dear  to  God,  the  friends  of  Jesus,  should  be  treat- 
ed by  us  with  gentleness,"  we  cannot  tell ;  we 
only  see  that  their  love  comes  without  restraint, 
that  its  expression  is  free. 

But  there  are  others  who  have  not  reached  so 
high  a  plane,  who  say  conscientiously,  that  they 
do  not  think  people  indifferent  to  them  have  a 
right  to  claim  their  time,  and  infringe  upon  their 
plans.  Yet  they  are  willing  to  acknowledge  the 
beauty  of  that  sacrificing  nature,  that  is  willing 
to  give  up  even  cherished  time  and  plans,  even  a 
beloved  ten  minutes'  ill-temper  and  spite,  for  the 
sake  of  those  who  can  give  them  nothing  in  re- 
turn, who  have  not  even  thanks  for  them,  or  an 
agreeable  word  or  glance. 

Some  say  that  such  concessions  are  impossible, 
and  require  a  want  of  truth.  "  How  cart  I  ex- 
press what  I  do  not  feel  ?  "  one  says  ;  "  I  do  not 
love  these  people,  and  if  I  made  them  think  so,  I 
should  be  untrue."  Untrue  to  what  ?  To  your 
own  false  nature  !  Do  we  call  a  watch  true  that 
is  five  hours  behind  the  time,  even  if  it  keeps  its 
minutes  and  its  seconds  exact  ?  You  have  no 
right  to  say  that  you  do  not  love  any  one  suf- 


FORGIVENESS.  153 

ficiently  to  treat  him  or  her  with  kindness.  If 
one  of  "  these  people  "  comes  within  your  door, 
interrupts  you  even  with  his  presence,  your  sense 
of  truth  does  not  lead  you  to  push  him  out  of  the 
door ;  even  your  forbearance  goes  as  far  as  to 
offer  him  a  chair !  Why  not  let  it  lead  you  a 
little  farther  ?  If  he  were  asked  which  he  would 
prefer,  he  might  answer,  he  would  rather  be 
thrust  from  the  door  than  suffer  from  your  stint- 
ed politeness,  your  cold  indifference.  Your  love 
of  truth  does  not  lead  you  to  treat  him  with 
blows ;  why  should  it  lead  you  to  make  him  suf- 
fer from  your  coldness  ?  It  is  your  duty  to  feel 
kindly  towards  all  who  come  within  your  circle, 
certainly  according  to  the  degree  of  your  influ- 
ence. And  if  you  have  not  this  feeling,- it  must 
be  cultivated.  After  the  soil  is  well  prepared  by 
prayer  to  God  that  he  will  send  a  Christian  spirit, 
the  seeds  of  kindly  deeds  must  be  sown,  and  the 
increase  will  come.  This  doctrine  I  am  often 
obliged  to  preach  to  myself.  We  are  thrown 
into  such  superficial  relations  with  others,  we 
are  so  often  shown  only  their  outside,  that  our 
duties  grow  very  involved  and  uncertain.  The 
way  becomes  clearer,  the  more  we  are  in  the  habit 
of  thinking  that,  besides  the  outer  forms  of  polite- 
ness, there  is  due  to  every  one  we  meet  with  a 
kindly  feeling.  It  becomes  the  easier,  the  more 
we  find  ourselves  prompted  by  a  true  Christian 


154  THE   FOURTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

spirit.  And  the  nearer  we  draw  to  others,  the 
more  easily  do  we  find  something  worthy  of  love, 
something  that  comes  back  in  return  for  what  we 
give,  something  in  response  to  us,  which  encour- 
ages and  helps  on  our  effort.  » 

I  have  seen,  lately,  a  discussion  upon  the  words 
of  the  Lord's  prayer,  "  Forgive  us  our  trespasses, 
as  we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us," 
questioning  if  we  do  not  promise  in  these  words 
more  than  we  can  perform.  In  my  mind,  there 
is  no  difficulty  in  reading  these  words  literally. 
Is  not  every  sincere  prayer  to  God  as  it  were  a 
compact  with  him,  in  which  we  would  promise  to 
strive  to  do  our  part  in  reaching  those  blessings 
for  which  we  pray  ?  Even  the  prayer,  "  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner,''  is  a  confession  of  sin, 
which  is  at  least  an  approach  to  repentance. 
Alas  !  "  the  heartlessness  of  our  prayers  is  the 
source  of  our  other  infidelities."  We  pray  not 
to  be  led  into  temptation,  and  pass  directly  into 
the  scene  where  we  know  temptation  lies  in  wait 
for  us.  We  ask  that  God's  kingdom  may  come 
upon  earth ;  but  as  soon  as  our  lips  have  closed 
upon  our  prayer,  we  open  our  minds  to  all  earth- 
ly thoughts.  We  pray  ourselves  for  daily  bread, 
and  forget  directly  those  who  are  suffering  for 
need  of  it.  Yet,  at  least  at  that  moment  when 
we  are  asking  God  to  forgive  us  our  trespasses, 
can  we  be  sufficiently  forgiving ,  to  our  debtors. 


FORGIVENESS.  155 

If  not,  we  may  well  leave  our  gift  at  the  altar, 
and  first  "  be  reconciled  to  our  brother,  and  then 
come  and  offer  our  gift."  But  if  our  prayers 
were  hearty,  if  we  often  approached  God  to 
pray  to  him  for  his  forgiveness,  the  more  often 
should  we  be  conscious  of  our  own  debts,  the 
more  willing  to  forgive  our  debtors.  The  for- 
giving spirit,  instead  of  being  momentary,  like 
our  consciousness  of  our  own  guilt,  would  be  so 
constant  with  us,  that  we  need  have  no  dread  in 
saying,  "  Forgive  us,  as  we  forgive  those  who 
trespass  against  us."  It  would  be  a  mockery  to 
come  to  Him  to  ask  for  that  forgiveness,  if  our 
hearts  were  rankling  with  ill-feeling  towards 
those  indebted  to  us.  At  least,  in  our  moments 
of  prayer,  let  us  sweep  out  and  garnish  our 
hearts,  to  strive  to  make  them  more  pure,  more 
fit  for  the  invited  presence  of  God. 


156  THE  FOURTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 


CHARITY  THE  LIFE  OF  FAITH.* 

"  Marvel  not,  my  brethren,  if  the  world  hate  you.  We  know  that 
we  have  passed  from  death  unto  life,  because  we  love  the  brethren." 
—  1  John  iii.  13,  14. 

The  clouds  that  wrap  the  setting  sun, 

When  Autumn's  softest  gleams  are  ending, 

Where  all  bright  hues  together  run, 
In  sweet  confusion  blending,  — 

Why,  as  we  watch  their  floating  wreath, 

Seem  they  the  breath  of  life  to  breathe  ? 

To  fancy's  eye  their  motions  prove 

They  mantle  round  the  sun  for  love. 

When  up  some  woodland  dale  we  catch 
_     The  many-twinkling  smile  of  ocean ; 
Or,  with  pleased  ear,  bewildered  watch 

His  chime  of  restless  motion ; 
Still,  as  the  surging  waves  retire, 
They  seem  to  gasp  with  strong  desire ; 
Such  signs'of  love  old  Ocean  gives, 
We  cannot  choose  but  think  he  lives. 

And  he  whose  heart  will  bound  to  mark 
The  full  bright  burst  of  summer  morn 

Loves  too  each  little  dewy  spark 
By  leaf  or  floweret  worn ; 

Cheap  forms  and  common  hues,  *t  is  true, 

Through  the  bright  shower-drop  meet  his  view ; 

*  Keble. 


FORGIVENESS.  157 

The  coloring  may  be  of  this  earth, 
The  lustre  comes  of  heavenly  birth. 

Even  so  who  loves  the  Lord  aright, 
No  soul  of  man  can  worthless  find 

All  will  be  precious  in  his  sight, 
Since  Christ  on  all  hath  shined ; 

But  chiefly  Christian  souls,  for  they, 

Though  worn  and  soiled  with  sinful  clay, 

Are  yet,  to  eyes  that  see  them  true, 

All  glistening  with  baptismal  dew. 

Then  marvel  not,  if  such  as  bask 

In  purest  light  of  innocence 
Hope  against  hope  in  love's  dear  task, 

Spite  of  all  dark  offence. 
If  they  who  hate  the  trespass  most, 
Yet,  when  all  other  love  is  lost, 
Love  the  poor  sinner,  marvel  not ; 
Christ's  mark  outwears  the  rankest  blot. 

No  distance  breaks  the  tie  of  blood ; 

Brothers  are  brothers  evermore ; 
Nor  wrong  nor  wrath  of  deadliest  mood 

That  magic  may  o'erpower. 
Oft,  ere  the  common  source  be  known, 
The  kindred  drops  will  claim  their  own, 
And  throbbing  pulses  silently 
Move  heart  towards  heart  by  sympathy. 
H 


158  THE  FOURTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

So  is  it  with  true  Christian  hearts  : 

Their  mutual  share  in  Jesus'  blood 
An  everlasting  bond  imparts 

Of  holiest  brotherhood.       . 
O  might  we  all  our  lineage  prove, 
Give  and  forgive,  do  good  and  love, 
By  soft  endearments  in  kind  strife 
Lightening  the  load  of  daily  life !  t 

There  is  much  need,  for  not  as  yet 

Are  we  in  shelter  or  repose ; 
The  holy  house  is  still  beset 

With  leaguer  of  stern  foes ; 
Wild  thoughts  within,  bad  men  without, 
All  evil  spirits  round  about 
Are  banded  in  unblest  device 
To  spoil  Love's  earthly  paradise. 

Then  draw  we  nearer  day  by  day, 

Each  to  his  brethren,  all  to  God ; 
Let  the  world  take  us  as  she  may, 
We  must  not  change  our  road ; 
Not  wondering,  though  in  grief,  to  find 
The  martyr's  foe  still  keep  her  mind, 
But  fixed  to  hold  Love's  banner  fast, 
And  by  submission  win  at  last. 


FORGIVENESS.  159 

SERMON  BY  REV.   W.  B.  0.  PEABODY. 

HITHERTO  UNPUBLISHED. 

"  Love  your  enemies."  —  Matt.  v.  44. 

*  I  shall  ask  your  attention  to  these  words,  not 
because  they  are  not  familiar,  for  the  subject  has 
been  often  presented.  I  do  it  to  guard  against 
the  limitations  of  the'  meaning  of  the  command 
by  which  the  spirit  of  the  charge  is  often  explained 
away.  We  are  all  in  danger  of  suiting  the  pre- 
cepts of  Christianity  to  our  lives,  instead  of  con- 
forming our  lives  to  the  precepts,  —  instead  of 
raising  ourselves  up  to  the  standard  required,  we 
lower  the  Standard  to  our  own  levels ;  a  most 
dangerous  proceeding,  since  it  not  only  pre- 
vents our  doing  what  is  right  at  the  time,  but 
prevents  our  discerning  what  is  right  in  future  : 
in  truth,  the  heaviest  curse  of  all  wrong-doing  is 
'that  it  depraves  the  judgment,  it  makes  us  blind 
to  the  difference  between  right  and  wrong,  and 
thus  puts  repentance  out  of  our  power. 

To  prevent  our  falling  into  dangerous  error  on 
this  very  practical  subject,  let  us  weigh  the  terms 
employed  in  this  injunction  of  our  duty. 

Our  enemies,  who  are  they  ?  And  the  answer 
probably  would-  be,  Our  enemies  are  those  whom 
we  are  conscious  of  hating ;  those  whom  we  know 
we  strongly  dislike  are  the  persons  who  are  here 


160  THE   FOURTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

recommended  to  our  regards.  But  no.  If  this 
definition  were  just,  we  should  all  say  that  we 
had  no  enemies ;  for  no  man  is  ever  conscious 
that  he  hates  another.  He  knows  that  he  has  no 
satisfaction  in  meeting  another  man.  He  knows 
that  he  thinks  contemptuously  of  him;  he  knows' 
that  his  feeling  towards  him  is  something  quite 
different  from  interest  or  regard.  But  he  does 
not  admit,  he  does  not  know  indeed,  that  the 
savage  passion  of  hatred  has  any  place  in  his 
breast.  But  watch  his  eye  when  it"  turns  toward 
or  turns  away  from  his  neighbor, — you  will  see 
hatred  in  its  contemptuous  glances ;  hear  his 
words  concerning  him,  —  they  are  words  of  scorn 
and  aversion;  observe  his  actions, —  you  will  find 
that  they  all  express  in  the  most  decided  manner 
that  bitter  hatred  which  he  is  not  aware  he  feels. 
Some  would  say,  —  in  reply  to  the  question, 
Who  are  our  enemies  ? — they  are  those  who  have 
injured  us,  and  they  certainly  are  included  in  the* 
meaning  of  the  words.  But  that  meaning  is  not 
broad  enough  to  embrace  the  whole.  There  are 
some  who  have  never  injured  us,  some  who 
have  never  crossed  our  path,  for  whom  we  enter- 
tain feelings  of  dislike.  In  fact,  it  is  easier  to 
forgive  those  who  have  injured  us,  than  those 
whom  we  have  injured.  We  do  sometimes  see 
those  who  are  kind  to  men  from  whom  they  have 
suffered  wrong  ;  while  it  is  unusual  indeed,  per- 


FORGIVENESS.  101 

haps  impossible,  to  find  one  who  is  ever  thor- 
oughly reconciled  to  the  man  whom  he  has  in- 
jured ;  so  that  the  word  enemy  includes  those 
to  whom  we  have  done  injury,  as  well  as  those 
who  have  injured  us. 

But  we  shall  see  who  are  the  enemies  here 
spoken  of  better  by  watching  our  own  feelings, 
and  the  unguarded  expression  of  our  feelings, 
than  in  any  other  way.  Is  there  any  one  whom 
it  is  unpleasant  to  you  to  meet  ?  He  is  the  enemy 
whom  you  are  charged  to  love.  Is  there  any  one 
of  whom  you  are  tempted  to  speak  bitterly,  con- 
temptuously, or  in  words  of  slight  regard  ?  He 
is  the  enemy  whom  you  are  commanded  to  love. 
Do  not  look  far  for  the  subjects  of  this  kind  feel- 
ing. There  is  deep  hostility  often  without  any 
declaration  of  war.  A  man's  foes  may  be  those 
of  his  own  household.  He  may  be  provoked  by 
the  different  opinions  of  one,  or  the  cold  selfish- 
ness of  another ;  the  calculating  malice  of  some, 
and  the  thoughtless  folly  of  others ;  the  incon- 
siderateness  of  childhood,  or  the  infirmity  of  old 
age  ;  —  these  and  a  thousand  other  influences  di- 
rectly about  him  may  be  producing  in  him  those 
feelings  of  enmity  which  we  are  sternly  cautioned 
against  indulging.  If  there  are  any,  then,  at 
home  or  abroad,  near  or  distant,  who  awaken 
in  us  unpleasant  feelings,  we  must  not  say  that 
our  feelings  are  just,  for  these  are  the  enemies 

14* 


162  THE    FOURTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

whom  we  are  commanded  to  love  ;  —  here  is  our 
field  of  duty. 

The  next  most  emphatic  word  in  the  command 
is  love.  "  Love  your  enemies;"  and  here  the 
deceitful  heart  steps  in,  and  says  that  it  cannot 
really  be  meant  that  we  should  love  them.  To 
love  is  a  strong  affection,  and  it  cannot  he  sup- 
posed that  it  shall  extend  to  a  great  variety  of 
objects ;  it  is  reserved  for  our  nearest  friends  ;  it 
cannot  be  expanded  to  embrace  the  whole  human 
race  in  its  arms.  In  reply  to  this  it  is  only 
necessary  to  say,  that  the  word  love  means  some- 
thing, —  something  must  be  done  within  us  in 
order  to  discharge  the  duty.  So  then  we  are  not 
to  feel  released  from  the  obligation  because  we 
cannot  give  the  same  measure  of  affection  to  all. 
We  are  certainly  required  to  love  our  enemies, 
and  yet  the  authority  that  enjoins  it  is  not  one 
that  requires  unreasonable  things. 

In  order  to  determine  what  this  duty  is,  we 
must  refer  to  particular  cases  in  which  the  duty 
is  to  be  discharged.  If,  for  example,  I  feel  strong 
resentment  at  any  one  on  account  of  injuries  he 
has  done  me,  I  must  not  only  suppress,  I  must 
dismiss  that  feeling.  I  must  so  far  get  rid  of  it 
as  to  give  him  the  same  interest  which  I  felt  be- 
fore he  injured  me  ;  that  is,  I  must  not  suffer 
the  wrong  he  has  done  me  to  affect  my  bearing 
toward  him.     I  must  render  no  protest,  under 


FORGIVENESS.  163 

no  name  whatever  indulge  a  passion  which  would 
prevent  my  regarding  him  as  a  brother  of  the 
family  of  man.  It  is  not  said  that  I  must  make  no 
distinction  between  him  and  my  nearest  friends, 
but  that  I  must  act  as  if  I  had  received  no  injury 
at  his  hand. 

In  the  same  manner  are  we  to  reason  with  re- 
spect to  all  toward  whom  we  have  any  unpleasant 
feeling.  Whether  they  are  at  home  or  abroad, 
near  or  distant,  we  must  make  it  our  business  to 
change  that  feeling  into  a  friendly  one,  so  that 
instead  of  being  painfully  alive  to  their  faults,  as 
we  now  are,  we  may  be  able  to  see  some  merits 
and  virtues  in  them  ;  and  where  we  now  are 
tempted  to  make  sharp  comments  on  their  fail- 
ings, we  may  take  pleasure  in  what  there  is  good 
about  them ;  and  if  they  are  such  that  charity 
can  say  but  little  in  their  favor,  we  may  at  least 
keep  silence,  and  leave  them  to  be  condemned  by 
other  tongues  than  ours.  For  this  purpose  wo 
must  watch  the  words  that  spring  readiest  to  our 
lips  ;  and  if  we  find  them  indicating  any  unkind 
feeling  towards  those  of  whom  we  speak,  we  must 
look  to  ourselves  ;  whatever  their  faults  may  be, 
our  own  hearts  are  not  clear,  and  all  diligence 
must  be  applied  to  reform  the  bad  passion  within 
us  before  we  sit  in  judgment  on  other  offenders. 

If  then  I  have  rightly  explained  who  are  meant 
by  our  enemies,  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  wherein 


164  THE   FOURTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

this  duty  consists  ;  all  those  towards  whom,  or 
concerning  whom,  we  have  any  contemptuous  feel- 
ing; all  those  with  whose  conduct  we  are  dis- 
pleased, either  with  or  without  reason  ;  all  those 
whose  malice  or  folly  offends  us  ;  all  those  whom 
we  are  disposed  to  shun, —  are  the  objects  of  this 
duty.  Such  persons  are  always  near  us  and 
about  us ;  they  may  be  inmates  of  our  dwellings, 
they  may  be  connected  with  us  by  the  ties  of 
nature.  But  wherever  or  whoever  they  may  be, 
we  must  make  it  the  chief  business  of  our  lives 
to  stifle,  suppress,  and  root  out  this  feeling  before 
it  grows  and  spreads,  and  casts  its  deathly  influ- 
ence over  the  better  affections  ;  for  any  such  feel- 
ing is  like  deadly  nightshade  to  the  soul. 

And  now  comes  the  practical  question,  Can  we 
love  our  enemies  ?     Can  the  duty  be  done  ? 

And  the  first  impulse  of  the  heart  is  to  rise  up 
and  say,  It  is  impossible ;  the  duty  cannot  be 
done.  But  let  us  reflect  what  part  of  our  nature 
it  is  from  which  the  reply  proceeds.  Is  it  from 
the  conscience  ?  Does  the  conscience,  after  hav- 
ing been  deliberately  consulted,  —  does  the  con- 
science say  that  it  is  impossible  ?  No,  the  con- 
science has  not  been  consulted  ;  it  was  the  voice 
of  passion  that  answered ;  and  the  whole  mean- 
ing of  it  is,  that,  with  our  present  feelings,  we  can- 
riot  perform  the  duty.  This  is  very  likely.  But 
what  does  it  prove  ?    Not  that  the  duty  is  beyond 


FORGIVENESS.  165 

our  reach,  but  only  that  our  present  feelings 
must  be  altered ;  we  must  be  renewed  in  the  spir- 
it of  our  minds,  and  then  we  may  find  that  the 
obligation  which  now  seems  so  far  beyond  us  will 
oe  comparatively  easy  to  perform.  But  have  we 
a  right  to  pronounce  any  duty  impossible  ?  Does 
not  God  know  what  we  can  do,  and  how  much 
we  can  bear  ?  .  Impossible  the  duty  cannot  be ; 
for  it  has  been  done.  Jesus  Christ  has  done  it ; 
some  of  his  followers  have  done  it ;  and  where 
there  is  a  true  heart  and  a  right  spirit  it  can  be 
done  again. 

Perhaps  the  chief  reason  why  this  duty  is  often 
thought  impossible  is  this.  We  think  of  changes 
in  others,  rather  than  of  a  change  in  ourselves. 
We  say,  if  they  would  be  kind  and  considerate,  if 
they  would  lay  aside  their  selfishness,  we  would 
give  them  a  place  in  our  regard.  And  this 
means,  that  if  there  were  nothing  to  forgive,  we 
could  forgive  them ;  we  could  bear  with  them,  if 
there  were  nothing  to  bear.  But  this  is  not  the 
way  with  Christian  duty.  But  this  will  not  do  ;  if 
we  wait  for  all  to  be  such  as  we  should  naturally 
love  before  we  consent  to  regard  them,  it  is  like 
waiting  in  a  journey  for  the  rivers  to  run  by,  be- 
fore we  consent  to  cross  them.  We  must  take 
mankind  as  they  are  ;  and  if,  as  we  are  now,  we 
cannot  love  them,  we  must  be  changed ;  we  must 
have  more  of  the  spirit  of  our  Master,  more  of 


166  THE  FOURTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

the  spirit  without  which  we  are  not  for  heaven, 
and  heaven  is  not  for  us.  For  to  pronounce  a  du- 
ty impossible  is  only  saying,  in  other  words,  that 
we  are  not  disposed  to  do  it ;  it  is  a  full  acknowl- 
edgment that  our  religion  has  made  no  change 
within. 

But  now  the  question  arises,  How  shall  we 
bring  ourselves  to  this  duty?  And  clearly  the 
reason  of  our  not  doing  it  now  is,  that  we  do  not 
love  to  love  our  enemies ;  that  is,  we  love  better 
to  indulge  our  present  feelings  than  to  make  the 
effort  required  to  change  them,  we  love  self-in- 
dulgence better  than  duty.  And  the  only  reme- 
dy is  to  change  the  present  purport  and  purposes 
of  our  lives ;  to  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God ; 
to  put  ourselves  under  his  authority,  so  that  his 
will  shall  be  ours,  so  that  we  shall  steadily  cher- 
ish such  feelings  as  he  enjoins  and  approves,  so 
that  we  shall  not  permit  a  single  feeling  which  he 
condemns  to  have  place  in  our  hearts  if  it  can  be 
dislodged  by  our  exertions  and  our  prayers.  When 
this  is  our  purpose  and  endeavor,  it  will  succeed  ; 
resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you.  The 
reason  these  evil  spirits  harbor  within  us  is,  that 
they  find  we  have  no  serious-  desire,  no  steadfast 
determination  to  drive  them  away. 

The  way  to  learn  this  duty  is  a  plain  one  to 
those  who  are  disposed  to  walk  in  it.  It  is  this. 
If  there  are  those  towards  whom  you  have  un- 


FOEGIVENESS.  167 

pleasant  feelings  of  resentment,  dislike,  or  sus- 
picion, — if  there  are  those  towards  whom  you  are 
coldly  indifferent  even,  — for  all  these  are  enemies 
in  the  sense  of  inspiration,  —  instead  of  keeping 
away  from  them,  you  must  make  it  a  point  to 
meet  them,  to  be  familiar  with  their  presence, 
and  all  the  while  to  make  an  effort  to  exercise 
the  feelings  of  kindness  toward  them.  Be  ready 
to  speak  to  them,  if  they  are  not  ready  to  speak 
to  you ;  let  your  bearing  towards  them  be  influ- 
enced, not  by  their  manner  towards  you,  but  by 
your  Christian  feeling  and  your  sense  of  duty. 
Give  no  utterance  to  the  feeling  which  their  self- 
ish coldness  awakens  in  you  ;  resolve  that,  so 
help  you  God,  you  will  be  true  to  the  spirit  of 
the  Master,  and  you  will  carry  your  point  in 
yourself,  if  not  in  them.  They,  too,  will  be  soft- 
ened, even  if  they  do  not  become  all  you  would 
wish  to  have  them.  But  however  it  may  be  with 
them,  you  will  find  a  new  sunshine  in  your  heart ; 
the  perpetual  gloom  that  now  scowls  in  your 
horizon  will  disappear ;  the  peace  which  passeth 
understanding  will  prevail  in  your  breast. 

Such  is  the  duty  of  loving  our  enemies,  and 
such  the  way  in  which  it  may  be  done.  Many 
are  those  toward  whom  our  feeling  is  to  be 
changed ;  near  and  distant,  at  home  and  abroad, 
we  find  perpetual  subjects  of  this  duty.  Let  us 
resolve  to  perform  it,  looking  unto  Jesus,  who 


168  THE   FOURTH   STORMY   SUNDAY.       ~ 

endured  all  manner  of  hostility  and  coldness, 
and  answered  not  again  ;  or  rather,  only  answered 
injury  with  kindness,  and  enmity  with  love. 

"  He  is  our  pattern ;  may  we  bear 
More  of  his  gracious  spirit  here  j 
And  may  we  trace  the  steps  he  trod, 
Which  lead  to  Virtue  and  to  God." 


FORGIVENESS.  169 

FIRST  EPISTLE  TO  THE  CORINTHIANS. 

Chap.  xiii. 

Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of  men  and 
of  angels,  and  have  not  charity,  I  am  become  as 
sounding  brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal.  And  though 
I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  understand  all 
mysteries  and  all  knowledge,  and  though  I  have 
all  faith,  so  that  I  could  remove  mountains,  and 
have  not  charity,  I  am  nothing. 

And  though  I  bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the 
poor,  and  though  I  give  my  body  to  be  burned, 
and  have  not  charity,  I  am  nothing. 

Charity  suffereth  long  and  is  kind ;  charity 
envieth  not ;  charity  vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not 
puffed  up,  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly,  seek- 
eth  not  her  own,  is  not  easily  provoked,  thinketh 
no  evil ;  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in 
the  truth ;  beareth  all  things,  believeth  all  things, 
hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things. 

Charity  never  faileth;  but  whether  there  be 
prophecies,  they  shall  fail;  whether  there  be 
tongues,  they  shall  cease ;  whether  there  be 
knowledge,   it   shall  vanish   away. 

For  we  know  in  part,  and  we  prophesy  in  part ; 
but  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  then  that 
which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away. 

When  I  was  a  child,  I  spake  as  a  child,  I 

15 


170  THE  FOURTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

understood  as  a  child,  I  thought  as  a  child ;  but 
when  I  became  a  man,  I  put  away  childish  things. 
For  now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then 
face  to  face  ;  now  I  know  in  part,  but  then  shall 
I  know  even  as  also  I  am  known. 

And  now  abideth  faith,  hope,   charity,  these 
three ;  but  the  greatest  of  these  is  charity. 


PRAYER. 

I  pray  to  thee  in  faith,  0  God,  my  dependence ! 
for  when  naught  else  can  help  me,  thou  forsakest 
me  never.  Thou  art  ever  near  to  sinners,  0  God, 
our  best  portion !  before  we  cry  to  thee  thou  art 
with  us,  bringing  joy  and  salvation.  Thou  know- 
est,  0  Lord,  what  casts  us  down;  nothing  can 
escape  thee ;  before  even  the  sigh  is  uttered  to 
thee,  thy  help  is  already  given  us.  In  many  a 
bitter  night  of  misfortune,  in  pressing  danger,  thou 
hast  watched  over  us  like  a  father,  and  art  ever 
with  us.  I  trust  in  thee,  my  shield,  in  the  truth 
of  thy  love,  which  goeth  forth  ever,  and  is  fresh 
every  day.  Thou  willingly  redeemest  thy  chil- 
dren from  every  pain  with  a  Father's  care ;  and 
does  any  sorrow  wound  our  hearts,  thou  turnest 
it  to  our  gain. 

Thou  measurest  to  us  in  love  and  kindness 


FORGIVENESS.  171 

what  is  best  for  us ;  thou  rewardest,  0  Father, 
not  according  to  our  desert.  So  I  come  into  thy 
presence,  with  joyous  confidence,  and  know  thou 
forsakest  not  thine  own  who  look  up  to  thee  in 
faith.  My  heart  and  soul  are  ever  thine ;  what 
thy  love  decrees  must  always  be  the  best ;  thou 
orderest  all  things  well.  Not  what  I  will,  what 
thou  wiliest,  be  done ;  wisdom  dwells  alone  in 
thee,  in  my  wish  is  often  folly  and  crime.  There- 
fore, all  that  I  have  and  am,  my  joy  and  my  sor- 
row, with  the  humble  spirit  of  a  child,  do  I  lay 
in  the  heart  of  the  Father.  Thy  will  shall  be  my 
will;  I  live  and  die  in  thee,  confident  and  joyous; 
I  sleep  and  wake,  for  thou  art  ever  near  me. 


172  THE   FOURTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 


"  Her  sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven ;  for  she  loved  much ;  but 
to  whom  little  is  forgiven,  the  same  loveth  little." 

He  to  whom  much  is  forgiven  is  not  he  who 
has  sinned  much,  but  he  who  feels  that  the  dif- 
ference among  men  is  not  so  great  as  we  foolishly 
imagine,  and  that  one  has  little  glory  above  an- 
other, because  they  all  fail  of  that  glory  which 
they  shall  have  in  the  presence  of  God  ;  in  short, 
it  is  he  who  feels  in  his  own  sin  the  sin  itself, 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  who  waters  the 
feet  of  the  Saviour  with  his  tears,  who  pours  out 
the  perfumed  ointment  of  the  thankfulness  of  a 
humble  heart.  He  to  whom  little  is  forgiven  is 
not  he  who  has  sinned  little,  —  for  who  could 
stand  up,  and  say  in  truth,  I  am  he  !  —  but  it  is 
he  who  has  made  little  account  of  sin,  without 
knowing  it,  perhaps,  because  he  would  not  be 
indebted  too  much  to  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ. 
The  Pharisee  who  invited  Jesus  to  his  house 
was  such  a  one;  but  in  the  hypocrisy  of  a  cold 
heart,  he  still  doubted  whether  he  were  a  true 
prophet,  and  was  anxious  lest  too  much  honor 
should  be  shown  to  the  Saviour  in  his  house. 

We  are  forgiven,  and  therefore  we  love ;  we 
ourselves  forgive,  and  for  this  reason  we  love ; 
and  for  both  these  reasons  are  we  loved  by  our 
brethren.  Is  the  forgiveness  on  both  sides  abun- 
dant, then  is  the  love  abundant ;  is  it  little,  then 


FORGIVENESS.  173 

the  love  must  be  little  and  lukewarm.  Yes,  that 
much  is  forgiven  us  because  we  have  loved  much, 
that  we  love  little  if  little  is  forgiven  us,  this  must 
we  feel  in  all  relations  of  life.  Look  upon  the 
dearest  and  the  closest,  upon  the  relations  be- 
tween husband  and  wife,  children,  brother,  and 
sister,  —  those  ties  by  which  God  has  touched 
our  hearts  in  a  peculiar  way,  and  which  awaken 
in  us  our  warmest  love.  Who  are  they  who,  in 
these  relations,  can  rejoice  that  they  have  sinned 
little,  and  that  little  is  forgiven  them  ?  Ah,  think 
of  life,  how  it  is,  with  all  our  changing  dispo- 
sitions, our  little  injustices,  our  struggle  never 
to  be  overcome  with  selfish  humors  or  weak  indo- 
lence ;  and  you  must  confess  that  to  him  only  is 
little  forgiven  who  has  loved  little,  who  satisfies 
himself  with  what  can  be  measured  out  by  some 
external  standard.  But  he  who  demands  all  that 
the  spirit  can  give  in  its  fulness,  which  truly  only 
the  spirit  of  love  can  estimate,  —  he  who  from 
his  own  impulse  extends  to  every  one  all  that 
God  has  given  him,  —  in  short,  he  who  loves 
much,  —  0  how  often  will  he  find  reason  to  cry 
out  for  patience  and  forbearance,  how  deeply  will 
he  feel  that  to  him  much  must  be  forgiven !  But 
because  the  inner  principle  of  his  loving  spirit 
makes  the  deepest  impression  upon  all  who  live 
with  him,  —  because  before  this  inward  principle 
all  unevenness  becomes  smooth,  all  disturbance 

15* 


174  THE   FOURTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

disappears,  —  for  this  very  reason  he  finds  pa- 
tience and  forbearance,  and  much  is  forgiven 
him  because  he  has  loved  much. 

And  so  is  it  also  with  all  the  less  close  relation- 
ships among  men.  He  who  flatters  himself  that 
he  stands  in  nobody's  way,  that  he  injures  no 
one,  neglects  nothing  which  is  laid  down  in  the 
laws  of  a  moral  way  of  life, — it  may  well  be  that 
he  is  forgiven  little  according  to  his  own  inter- 
pretation ;  but  he  also  loves  little.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  who  goes  forth  actively,  kindly,  to  work 
with  living  purpose  in  the  life  of  men,  for  how 
many  sins  of  omission,  how  many  moments  of 
slow  indifference,  of  cold  reserve,  must  he  re- 
proach himself !  But  if  men  feel  how  powerful 
are  his  efforts,  how  much  he  loves,  and  loving 
offers  to  others,  to  him  will  much  be  forgiven. 

Let  us  think  how  the  forgiveness  of  Christ 
worked  upon  those  dispositions  that  were  subject 
to  it,  so  that  those  whose  closed  eyes  he  opened, 
whom  he  healed  from  heavy  infirmity,  even  those 
whom  he  waked  from  the  body's  death,  could  not 
be  so  near  to  him,  cling  to  him  so  thankfully, 
nor  enjoy  such  lasting  love,  as  those  to  whom  he 
could  say,  Go,  thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee.  So 
also  with  us.  All  benefits  and  gifts  which  we 
can  scatter  are  less  powerful  to  strengthen  the 
bond  of  love  than  this  gentle  sympathy  with  the 
inward  spirit,  this  strengthening  forbearance,  this 


FORGIVENESS.  175 

reconciling  support  and  consolation  for  the  re- 
pentant and  fallen.  That  was  the  most  beautiful 
praise  of  the  Saviour,  uttered  by  the  prophet  of 
the  Old  Testament :  "  The  smoking  flax  shall  he 
not  quench,  the  bruised  reed  shall  he  not  break." 
0  how  many  like  these  weak  ones  do  we  see 
around  us  !  Let  us  bind  fast  with  tender  hand 
the  broken  reed,  —  let  us  breathe  into  the  expir- 
ing flame  the  breath  of  love,  that  it  may  live 
anew ;  so  may  we  come  nearer  to  Him,  and  feel 
how  blessed  are  those  who  deserve  to  be  called 
his  brothers,  and  that  we  with  truth  can  cry, 
"  Forgive  us,  as  we  forgive."  —  Schleiermacher. 


How  carefully  should  we  cherish  the  little  vir- 
tues which  spring  up-  at  the  foot  of  the  cross, 
since  they  are  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  the 
Son  of  God. 

These  virtues  are  humility,  patience,  meekness, 
benignity,  bearing  one  another's  burden,  conde- 
scension, cheerfulness,  compassion,  forgiving  in- 
juries, simplicity,  candor ;  all,  in  short,  of  that 
sort.  They,  like  unobtrusive  violets,  love  the 
shade  ;  like  them,  are  unstained  by  dew  ;  and 
though,  like  them,  they  make  little  show,  they 
shed  a  sweet  odor  on  all  around.  —  St.  Francis 
de  Sales. 


176  THE   FOURTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 


"  A  bruised  reed  shall  he  not  break,  and  the  smoking  flax  shall 
not  quench." 

Why  hast  thou,  for  our  earthly  gloom, 

Thus  left  our  Father's  hall? 
"  Not  for  the  righteous  am  I  come, 

But  sinners  to  recall." 

What  bear'st  thou  from  yon  desert  nook, 

Upon  thy  shoulders  bound  ? 
"  A  sheep  who  left  my  Father's  flock, 

Whom  I  have  lost  and  found." 

What  is  it  wakes  the  angelic  mirth, 

'Mid  sons  of  God  in  heaven  ? 
"  'T  is  some  poor,  sorrowing  child  of  earth, 

Who  is  of  God  forgiven." 

What  makes  the  gracious  Father  rise, 

And  hasten  from  his  seat  ? 
"  'T  is  one  in  distance  he  descries,  — 

A  long  lost  son,  to  meet." 

O  Thou  who  seest  our  secret  prayer, 

And  every  inmost  grief, 
Teach  us  on  thee  to  cast  our  care, 

And  find  in  thee  relief. 


FORGIVENESS.  177 

I  read  to-day  a  sermon  of  Cudworth's,  who 
preached  in  the  days  of  the  Commonwealth  and 
of  Charles  II.  It  measures  six  times  the  length 
of  the  printed  sermons  of  the  present  day,  show- 
ing greater  perseverance  in  both  preacher  and 
hearer  than  in  these  latter  days. 

EXTRACT  FROM  RALPH  CUD  WORTH'S  SERMON 

UPON  THE   CHRISTIAN'S  VICTORY  OVER  SIN,  THE  LAW,  AND  DEATH. 

Some  there  are  who  will  acknowledge  no  other 
victory  over  sin,  but  an  external  one ;  that  by 
which  it  was  conquered  for  us,  sixteen  hundred 
years  since,  by  Christ  upon  the  cross ;  when  he 
spoiled  principalities  and  powers,  and  made  a 
show  of  them  openly,  triumphing  over  them  in  it, 
"  and  when  he  redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of 
the  law,  being  made  a  curse  for  us."  And, 
doubtless,  this  was  one  great  end  of  Christ's  com- 
ing into  the  world,  to  make  a  propitiatory  sacrifice 
for  the  sins  of  mankind ;  not  only  that  he  might 
thereby  put  a  period  to  those  continually  repeat- 
ed and  ineffectual  sacrifices  of  brute  beasts,  and 
the  offering  of  the  blood  of  bulls  and  goats,  which 
could  not  take  away  sin,  nor  propitiate  his  Di- 
vine Majesty ;  but  also  that  he  might,  at  once, 
give  a  sensible  demonstration,  both  of  God's  high 
displeasure  against  sin,  and  of  his  placableness 
and  reconcilableness  to  sinners  returning  to  obe- 


178  THE   FOURTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

dience  ;  and  therefore  to  that  end,  that  the  de- 
spair of  pardon  might  not  hinder  any  from  re- 
pentance and  amendment  of  life,  he  promulgated 
free  pardon  and  remission  of  sins,  through  his 
blood,  to  all  those  who  should  repent  and  believe 
the  Gospel. 

But  it  is  a  very  unsound  and  unwholesome  in- 
terpretation of  this  salutary  undertaking  of  Christ 
in  the  Gospel,  that  its  ultimate  end  was  to  procure 
remission  of  sin,  and  exemption  from  punishment 
only,  to  some  particular  persons  still  continuing 
under  the  power  of  sin,  and  to  save  them,  at  last, 
in  their  sins,  that  is,  with  a  mere  outward  and 
carnal  salvation ;  it  being  a  thing  utterly  impos- 
sible, that  those  undefiled  rewards  of  the  heavenly 
kingdom  should  be  received  and  enjoyed  by  men 
in  their  unregenerate  and  unrenewed  nature. 

For  a  true  Christian,  that  has  anything  of  the 
life  of  God  in  him,  cannot  but  earnestly  desire 
an  inward  healing  of  his  sinful  maladies  and  dis- 
tempers, and  not  an  outward  hiding  and  pallia- 
tion of  them  only.  He  must  needs  passionately 
long  more  and  more  after  a  new  life  and  nature, 
and  the  divine  image  more  fully  formed  in  him; 
insomuch,  that  if;  without  it,  he  might  be  secured 
from  the  pains  of  hell,  he  could  not  be  fully 
quieted  and  satisfied  with  such  security.  It  is 
not  the  effects  and  consequence  of  sin  only,  the 
external  punishment  due  unto  it,  from  which  he 


FORGIVENESS.  179 

desires  to  be  freed ;  but  from  the  intrinsical  evil 
of  sin  itself,  from  the  plague  of  his  own  heart. 
As  he  often  meditates  with  comfort  upon  that 
outward  cross  to  which  his  Saviour's  hands  and 
feet  were  nailed  for  his  sins,  so  he  impatiently 
desires  to  feel  the  virtue  of  that  inward  cross  of 
Christ,  also,  by  which  the  world  may  be  crucified 
to  him  and  he  unto  the  world ;  and  to  experience 
the  power  of  Christ's  resurrection  within  him, 
still  to  raise  him  further  unto  newness  of  life. 
Neither  will  he  be  more  easily  persuaded  to  be- 
lieve, that  his  sinful  desires,  the  malignity  and 
violence  of  which  he  feels  within  himself,  can  be 
conquered  without  him,  than  that  an  army  here 
in  England  can  be  conquered  in  France  or  Spain. 
He  is  so  deeply  sensible  of  the  real  evil,  which  is  in 
sin  itself,  that  he  cannot  be  contented  to  have  it 
only  histrionically  triumphed  over.  And  to  fancy 
himself  covered  all  over  with  a  thin  veil  of  mere 
external  imputation,  will  afford  little  satisfactory 
comfort  unto  him  that  hungers  and  thirsts  after 
righteousness,  and  is  weary  and  heavy  laden  with 
the  burden  of  sins,  and  does  not  desire  to  have 
his  inward  maladies  hid  and  covered  only,  but 
healed  and  cured.  Neither  can  he  be  willing  to 
be  put  off  till  the  hour  of  death,  for  a  divorce 
between  his  soul  and  sin ;  nor  easily  persuaded, 
that,  though  sin  should  rule  and  reign  in  him  all 
his  life  long,  yet  the   last  parting   groan,  that 


180  THE   FOURTH 'STORMY  SUNDAY. 

shall  divide  his  soul  and  body  asunder,  may  have 
so  great  an  efficacy,  as,  in  a  moment  also,  to 
separate  all  sin  from  his  soul. 

The  true  Gospel  righteousness,  which  Christ 
came  to  set  up  in  the  world,  does  not  consist 
merely  in  outward  works,  whether  ceremonial  or 
moral,  done  by  our  own  natural  power,  in  our 
unregenerate  state,  but  in  an  inward  life  and 
spirit,  wrought  by  God. 

But  there  is  a  second  degree  of  victory  over 
sin,  which  every  true  Christian  ought  not  only  to 
look  upon  as  possible,  but  also  to  endeavor  after, 
and  ceaselessly  to  pursue ;  which  is  "  such  a 
measure  of  strength  in  the  inward  man,"  and 
such  a  degree  of  mortification  or  crucifixion  of 
our  sinful  lusts,  as  that  a  man  will  not  knowingly 
and  deliberately  do  anything,  that  his  conscience 
plainly  tells  him  is  a  sin,  though  there  be  never 
so  great  temptations  to  it. 

Wherefore,  I  demand,  in  the  next  place,  why 
it  should  be  thought  impossible,  by  the  grace  of 
the  Gospel,  and  the  faith  of  Christ,  to  attain  to 
such  a  victory  over  sin  ?  For  sin  owes  its  origi- 
nal to  nothing  else  but  ignorance  and  darkness  ; 
every  wicked  man  is  ignorant.  And,  therefore, 
in  that  sense,  another  maxim  of  the  Stoics  may 
have  some  truth,  also,  that  men  sin  against  their 
will ;  because,  if  they  knew  that  those  things 
were  indeed  so  hurtful  to  them,  they  would  never 


FORGIVENESS.  181 

do  them.  Now,  we  all  know,  how  easily  light 
conquers  darkness,  and,  upon  its  first  approach, 
makes  it  fly  before  it,  and,  like  a  guilty  shade, 
seek  to  hide  itself  from  it,  by  running  round  the 
earth.  And,  certainly,  the  light  of  God,  arising 
in  the  soul,  can  with  as  much  ease  scatter  away 
the  night  of  sinful  ignorance  before  it.  For 
truth  has  a  cognation  with  the  soul ;  and  false- 
hood, lies,  and  impostures,  are  no  more  able  to 
make  resistance  against  the  power  of  truth  break- 
ing forth,  than  darkness  is  able  to  dispute  with 
light.  Wherefore,  the  entrance  in  of  light  upon 
the  soul  is  half  a  conquest  over  our  sinful  incli- 
nations. 

Again,  though  sin  have  had  a  long  and  cus- 
tomary possession  in  the  soul,  yet  it  has  no  just 
title,  much  less  a  right  of  inheritance.  For  sin 
is  but  a  stranger  and  foreigner  in  the  soul,  an 
usurper  and  intruder  into  the  Lord's  inheritance. 
Sin  is  no  nature,  as  Saint  Austin  and  others  of 
the  Fathers  often  inculcate,  but  an  adventitious 
and  extraneous  thing ;  and  the  true  and  ancient 
nature  of  the  soul  of  man,  suffers  violence  under 
it,  and  is  oppressed  by  it.  It  is  nothing  else  but 
the  preternatural  state  of  rational  beings  ;  and, 
therefore,  we  have  no  reason  to  think  it  must 
needs  be  perpetual  and  unalterable.  Is  it  a 
strange  thing,  that,  by  the  hand  of  a  skilful  mu- 
sician, a  jarring  instrument  should  ever  be  set  in 

16 


182  THE   FOURTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

tune  again  ?  Doubtless,  if  an  instrument  of 
music  were  a  living  thing,  it  would  be  sensible  of 
harmony  as  its  proper  state,  and  abhor  discord 
and  dissonancy  as  a  thing  preternatural  to  it. 
The  soul  of  man  was  harmonical  as  God  at  first 
made  it ;  till  sin,  disordering  the  strings  and  fac- 
ulties, put  it  out  of  tune,  and  marred  the  music 
of  it ;  but,  doubtless,  that  great  Harmostes,  who 
tunes  the  whole  world,  and  makes  all  things 
keep  their  times  and  measures,  is  able  to  set  this 
lesser  instrument  in  tune  again.  Sin  is  but  a 
disease  and  dyscrasy  in  the  soul ;  righteousness 
is  its  health  and  natural  complexion  ;  and  there 
is  a  propensity  in  the  nature  of  everything,  to 
return  to  its  proper  state,  and  to  cast  off  what- 
ever is  heterogeneous  to  it.  And  some  physi- 
cians tell  us,  that  medicaments  are  but  subser- 
vient to  nature,  by  removing  obstructions  and 
impediments  ;  but  nature  itself,  and  the  inward 
Archasus,  released  and  set  at  liberty,  works  the 
cure.  Bodies,  when  they  are  bent  out  of  their 
place,  and  violently  forced  out  of  the  natural  po- 
sition of  their  parts,  have  a  spring  of  their  own, 
and  an  inward  strong  propension  to  return  to  their 
own  natural  posture,  which  produces  that  motion 
of  restitution,  of  whioh  philosophers  endeavor  to 
give  a  reason.  Now,  sin  being  a  violent  and  pre- 
ternatural state,  and  a  sinner's  returning  to  God 
and  righteousness  being  that  motion  by  which  the 


FORGIVENESS.  183 

soul  is  restored  to  its  true  freedom  and  ancient 
nature,  why  should  there  not  be  such  an  elater 
or  spring  in  the  soul,  (quickened  and  enlivened 
by  divine  grace,)  such  a  natural  conatus,  of  re- 
turning to  its  proper  state  again  ?  Doubtless, 
there  is  ;  and  the  Scripture  seems  sometimes  to 
acknowledge  it,  and  to  call  it  by  the  name  of 
spirit,  when  it  speaks  of.  our  free-acting  in  God's 
ways,  from  an  inward  principle.  For  the  spirit 
is  not  always  to  be  taken  for  a  breath  or  impulse 
from  without ;  but,  also,  for  an  inward  propen- 
sion  of  the  soul,  awakened  and  revived  in  it,  to 
return  to  its  proper  state,  as  it  is  intellectual ; 
and  then  to  act  freely  in  that  state,  according  to 
its  ancient  nature. 

Lastly,  we  must  observe,  that,  though  this  in- 
ward victory  over  sin  be  no  otherwise  attainable 
than  by  the  spirit  of  Christ,  through  faith,  and  by 
a  divine  operation  within  us ;  so  that,  in  a  certain 
sense,  we  may  be  said  to  be  passive  recipients ; 
yet  we  must  not  dream  that  our  active  co-opera- 
tion and  concurrence  are  not  also  necessarily  re- 
quired. For  as  there  is  a  spirit  of  God  in  nature 
producing  vegetables  and  minerals  which  human 
art  and  industry  could  never  be  able  to  effect ;  a 
certain  nutritive  spirit  within,  as  the  poet  sings, 
which  yet  does  not  work  absolutely,  uncondition- 
ally, and  omnipotently,  but  requires  certain  prep- 
arations, conditions,  and  dispositions  in  the  mat- 


184  THE   FOURTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

ter  which  it  works  upon;  (for  unless  the  hus- 
bandman plough  the  ground  and  sow  the  seed, 
the  spirit  of  God  in  nature  will  not  give  any  in- 
crease ;)  in  like  manner,  the  Scripture  tells  us 
that  the  divine  spirit  of  grace  does  not  work  in 
the  souls  of  men  absolutely,  unconditionally,  and 
irresistibly,  but  requires  in  us  certain  proportions, 
conditions,  and  co-operations ;  forasmuch,  as  it 
may  both  be  quenched,  and  stirred  up  or  excited, 
in  our  souls.  And  indeed,  unless  we  plough  up 
the  fallow  ground  of  our  hearts,  and  sow  to  our- 
selves in  righteousness,  as  the  prophet  speaks,  by 
our  earnest  endeavors,  we  cannot  expect  that 
the  divine  spirit  of  grace  will  shower  down  that 
heavenly  increase  upon  us.  Wherefore,  if,  by  the 
spirit  of  Christ,  we  would  attain  a  victory  over 
sin,  we  must  endeavor  to  fight  a  good  fight,  and 
win  a  good  race,  and  to  "  enter  in  at  the  strait 
gate  "  ;  that  so,  overcoming,  we  may  receive  the 
crown  of  life.  And  thus  much  it  shall  suffice 
me  to  have  spoken  at  this  time  concerning  the 
first  particular,  the  victory  over  sin. 

We  cannot  now  but  take  notice  briefly  of  some 
errors  of  those  who,  either  pretending  the  impos- 
sibility of  this  inward  victory  over  sin,  or  else 
hypocritically  declining  the  combat,  make  up  a 
certain  religion  to  themselves  out  of  other  things, 
which  are  either  impertinent  and  nothing  to  the 
purpose,  Or  else  evil  and  noxious. 


FORGIVENESS.  185 

For  first,  some,  as  was  intimated  before,  make 
to  themselves  a  mere  fantastical  and  imaginary- 
religion;  they  conceit  that  there  is  nothing  for 
them  to  do  but  confidently  to  believe  that  all  is 
already  done  for  them ;  that  they  are  dearly  be- 
loved of  God  without  any  conditions  or  qualifica- 
tions to  make  them  lovely.  But  such  a  faith  as 
this  is  nothing  but  mere  fancy  and  carnal  imagi- 
nation, proceeding  from  that  natural  self-love 
with  which  men  fondly  dote  upon  themselves,  and 
are  apt  to  think  that  God  loves  them  as  fondly 
and  as  partially  as  they  love  themselves,  tying  his 
affection  to  their  particular  outward  persons,  to 
their  very  flesh  and  blood ;  —  thus  making  God  a 
being  like  unto  themselves,  that  is,  wholly  actu- 
ated by  arbitrary  self-will,  fondness,  and  partial- 
ity ;  and  perverting  the  whole  nature  and  design 
of  religion,  which  is  not  a  mere  phantastry  and 
historical  show,  but  a  real  victory  over  the  real 
evil  of  sin ;  without  which  neither  can  God  take 
pleasure  in  any  man's  person,  nor  can  there  be 
any  possibility  of  happiness,  any  real  turning  of 
the  soul  from  darkness  unto  light,  from  the  power 
of  Satan  unto  God. 

Again,  some  there  are,  who,  instead  of  walk- 
ing in  the  narrow  way  which  Christ  commends, 
of  subduing  and  mortifying  our  sinful  appetites, 
make  to  themselves  certain  other  narrow  ways  of 
affected  singularity  in  things  which  belong  not  to 

16* 


186  THE   FOURTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

life  and  godliness  ;  outward  strictnesses  and  se- 
veritiest  of  their  own  choosing  and  devising  ;  and 
who  persuade  themselves  that  this  is  the  strait 
gate  and  narrow  way  of  Christ,  which  leadeth 
unto  life.  Whereas,  these  are  indeed  nothing 
else  but  some  particular  paths,  and  narrow  slices, 
cut  out  of  the  broad  way.  For,  though  they 
have  an  outward  and  seeming  narrowness,  yet 
they  are  so  broad  within  that  camels  with  their 
burdens  may  easily  pass  through  them.  These, 
instead  of  taking  up  Christ's  cross  upon  them, 
make  to  themselves  certain  crosses  of  their  own ; 
and  laying  them  upon  their  shoulders,  and'carry- 
ing  them,  please  themselves  with  the  conceit  that 
they  bear  the  cross  of  Christ ;  while  in  truth  and 
reality  they  are  frequently  too  much  strangers  to 
that  cross,  by  which  the  world  should  be  crucified 
to  them  and  they  unto  the  world.  Some  place 
all  their  religion  in  endless  scrupulosities  about 
indifferent  things,  neglecting  in  the  mean  time 
the  more  weighty  matters,  both  of  law  and  gos- 
pel ;  straining  at  a  gnat  and  swallowing  a  camel ; 
that  is,  not  being  so  scrupulous  as  they  ought  to 
be  about  the  substantial  of  religion  and  a  good 
life.  For,  as  we  ought  not  to  place  the  chief  of 
our  religion  in  the  mere  observance  of  outward 
rites  and  ceremonies,  whilst,  in  the  mean  time, 
we  hypocritically  neglect  the  morals  and  substan- 
tial, which  may  deservedly  be  branded  with  the 


FORGIVENESS.  187 

name  of  superstition ;  so,  we  ought  to  know  that 
it  is  equal  superstition  to  have  such  an  abhor- 
rence of  indifferent  things  as  to  make  it  the  main 
of  our  religion  to  abstain  from  them.  Both  of 
these  argue  equal  ignorance  of  the  nature  of 
God,  as  if  he  were  some  morose,  humorous,  and 
captious  being ;  and  of  that  righteousness  in  which 
the  kingdom  of  God  consists  ;  as  if  these  out- 
ward and  indifferent  things  could  either  hallow 
or  defile  our  souls,  or  as  if  salvation  and  damna- 
tion depended  upon  the  mere  using  or  not  using 
of  them.  The  Apostle  himself  instructs  us,  that 
the  kingdom  of  God  consists  no  more  in  uncir- 
cumcision  than  in  circumcision ;  that  is,  no  more 
in  not  using  outward  ceremonies  and  indifferent 
things  than  in  using  them. 

Wherefore,  the  negative  superstition  is  equal 
to  the  positive.  And  both  of  them  alike  call  off 
men's  attention  from  the  main  objects  of  religion, 
by  engaging  them  overmuch  in  small  and  little 
things.  But  the  sober  Christian,  who  neither 
places  all  his  religion  in  external  observances,  nor 
yet  is  super stitiously  anti-ceremonial,  —  as  he 
will  think  himself  obliged  to  have  a  due  regard  to 
the  commands  of  lawful,  authority  in  adiaphorous 
things,  and  to  prefer  the  peace  and  unity  of  the 
Christian  Church,  and  the  observation  of  the 
royal  law  of  charity,  before  the  satisfaction  of  any 
private  humor  or  interest,  —  so  he  will  be  aware 


188  THE  FOURTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

of  that  extreme,  into  which  many  run,  of  banish- 
ing away,  quite  out  of  the  world,  all  the  solem- 
nity of  external  worship,  the  observance  of  the 
Lord's  day,  and  the  participation  of  the  Christian 
sacraments,  under  the  notion  of  useless  ceremo- 
nies. 

To  conclude :  unless  there  be  a  due  and  timely 
regard  had  to  the  commands  of  lawful  author- 
ity, in  indifferent  things,  and  to  order,  peace, 
and  unity  in  the  Church,  it  may  easily  be  fore- 
seen, that  the  reformed  part  of  Christendom  will 
be  brought  to  confusion,  and  at  length  to  utter 
ruin,  by  crumbling  into  infinite  sects  and  di- 
visions. 

Wherefore,  laying  aside  these,  and  similar 
childish  mistakes  and  things  which  are  little  to 
the  purpose,  let  us  seriously  apply  -ourselves  to 
the  main  work  of  our  religion ;  that  is,  to  mor- 
tify and  vanquish  our  sinful  natures,  by  the  as- 
sistance of  God's  Holy  Spirit,  through  faith' in 
Christ ;  that  so,  being  dead  to  sin  here,  we  may 
live  with  God  eternally  hereafter. 


THE  FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

THE    CHILDREN. 


Lo,  to  Thy  kingdom  here  below 

"We  little  children  bring, 
For  to  that  kingdom  such  we  know 

The  meetest  offering. 

Let  naught  alluif  them  from  Thy  word, 

Or  tempt  their  spirits  frail ; 
Keep  thou  their  steps,  O  blessed  Lord ! 

Nor  let  our  loved  ones  fail." 


THE    FIFTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

THE  CHILDREN. 

Again  a  stormy  Sunday!  This  is  the  fifth 
Sunday  that  I  have  been  prevented  from  going 
to  church  by  the  heavy  storm.  What,  indeed, 
shall  we  do,  we  weaker  ones,  who  cannot  venture 
into  the  storm  to  find  our  Sunday  food  ?  If  I 
could  only  penetrate  through  the  heavy  drifts 
down  the  hill  as  far  as  Mrs.  Blake's  house,  how 
gladly  would  I  do  it !  But  George  says  that  it 
is  impossible.  Poor  Mrs.  Blake !  She  was  telling 
me  only  yesterday  of  the  troubles  that  these 
stormy  Sundays  had  brought  her,  with  her  fam- 
ily of  children.  It  was  so  impossible  to  find  any 
Sunday  quiet.  All  the  week  she  has  days  of 
noise  and  interruption,  and  is  quite  dependent 
upon  the  rest  of  the  Sunday  services  for  thought, 
for  worship,  and  for  help  from  the  words  of  the 
preacher. 

"  People,"  she  said,  "  talk  to  me  of  the  quiet 
of  a  Sunday  at  home,  in  preference  to  church 


192  THE  FIFTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

worship,  and  have  even  wished  they  might  pass 
it  like  other  days.  But  I  should  like  to  have 
them  find  the  quiet  in  a  house  with  three  boys 
from  five  years  old  to  twelve,  and  a  baby,  and 
three  such  girls  as  Isabel  and  Mary  and  Clara ! 
Neither  would  they  like  it  any  better  to  pass  it 
like  other  days.  Six  are  enough  of  that  kind. 
I  am  preaching  to  the  children  all  the  week,  and 
it  is  a  comfort  to  go  where  I  can  hear  some  one 
preach  to  me,  and  think  of  my  own  sins,  and  pray 
for  patience  !  Discipline  I  may  have  enough  of, 
to  be  sure,  all  through  the  week ;  but  I  need 
teaching,  to  learn  how  to  turn  it  in  the  right  di- 
rection. I  need  the  day  of  rest  to  recall  to  my- 
self what  rest  is,  to  put  my  thoughts  in  order." 

I  hoped,  if  there  were  another  stormy  Sunday, 
I  might  go  to  Mrs.  Blake's  to  help  her  through 
the  day  with  the  seven  children.  But  as  I  can- 
not reach  her,  I  must  help  myself  with  her  ac- 
count of  her  last  stormy  Sunday. 


Isabel  stood  by  the  window,  disconsolate, 
watching  the  storm.  I  am  afraid  that  her  dis- 
appointment was  the  deeper,  because  she  could 
not  wear  her  new  furs  that  her  grandfather  had 
sent  her  for  a  birthday  present  the  day  before. 
I  am  sorry  to  confess  it ;  but  Isabel  has  so  much 
taste  about  her  dress,  that  perhaps  I  cannot  won- 


THE   CHILDREN.  193 

dcr  if  she  gives  too  much  thought  to  it.  Clara 
was  sorry  that  she  could  n't  go  out,  because  she 
had  studied  her  Sunday-school  lesson  so  very 
carefully  the  night  before.  Generally  her  Sun- 
day lesson  is  left  till  the  morning,  and  then  very 
hurriedly  learned  ;  but  this  time  she  had  taken 
particular  pains  with  it,  and  now  she  said,  "  It 's 
of  no  use  ;  I  shall  forget  it  all  before  next  Sun- 
day." Mary,  poor  Mary,  looked  sorrowfully  out 
of  the  window  too.  She  has  been,  indeed,  a  pris- 
oner all  winter,  and  a  stormy  day  only  gives  her 
less  to  regret  without.  But  a  stormy  Sunday, 
with  all  the  children  shut  inside  the  house,  would 
be  rather  a  trial  for  her  aching  head.  She  al- 
ready looked  pale  and  anxious. 

Now  what  should  I  do  ?  Should  I  declare  a 
truce,  and  tell  the  boys  that  they  might  play  their 
games  just  as  they  would  other  days  ?  For  more 
than  one  reason,  —  even  if  one  good  one  were  not 
enough,  —  I  should  not  have  wished  to  do  this. 
Though  I  do  not  like  to  have  the  children  con- 
nect a  feeling  of  constraint  with  the  Sundays,  I 
would  rather  give  them  early  the  habit  of  mak- 
ing it  a  different  day  from  others.  I  would  like 
them  to  learn  it  is  the  day  on  which  they  are  to 
do  the  best  things,  —  "not  merely  to  wear  my 
best  things,"  suggested  Clara,  when  I  was  once 
expressing  this. 

And  even  if  I  had  yielded  my  cherished  feel- 


194  THE   FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

ings  on  the  subject,  that  I  might  get  along  the 
easiest  way  I  could,  there  was  Mary's  headache 
to  be  thought  of,  and  she  could  not  bear  the  noise 
attendant  on  the  jubilee  of  "  playing  on  Sunday." 
And  Isabel  and  Clara  were  old  enough  to  prefer  a 
quiet  time  for  reading  to  the  noise  of  the  children. 

Harry  was  permitted  to  try  and  shovel  away 
the  snow  that  was  banking  up  the  porch,  so  that 
his  father  need  not  lose  his  way  to  the  house  when 
he  came  home.  All  the  smaller  boys  wanted  to 
go  out  too.  The  storm  was  quite  too  high  for 
the  little  things ;  the  wind  would  have  blown  them 
off  the  hill.  But  this  they  were  not  willing  to 
believe,  and  so  arose  uproar  the  first.  The  baby 
was  waked  by  the  noise.  The  breakfast  things 
were  to  be  washed  and  put  away,  for  Bridget  in- 
sisted upon  her  privilege  of  going  out,  in  spite  of 
the  storm,  and  had  started  off  a  little  earlier  on 
account  of  it.  It  was  a  moment  of  discourage- 
ment. Perhaps  it  was  no  great  wonder  that  I 
looked  round  and  saw  only  the  dark  side  of 
everything,  —  that  I  thought  Isabel  was  troubled 
by  the  disappointment  of  her  vanity,  that  I  gave 
Clara  no  better  motive,  that  I  saw  in  Mary  irri- 
tation and  peevishness. 

But  one  should  go  down  into  such  great  depths 
only  to  rise  up  again.  I  saw  that  my  own  dis- 
couragement was  only  adding  to  that  of  the 
others,  making  Mary  gloomier,  Isabel  and  Clara 
more  discontented,  and  the  boys  more  restless. 


THE   CHILDREN.  195 

"  Come,"  said  I,  when  Harry  had  given  up 
and  come  in,  u  we  will  have  services,  and  a 
'meeting'  at  home.  But  we  shall  not  any  of 
us  be  ready  for  it,  unless  everybody  helps.  Har- 
ry must  take  the  baby,  and  Clara  must  get  some 
pillows,  and  arrange  the  sofa  for  Mary  to  lie  down. 
And  Isabel  and  the  boys  and  I  will  clear  away 
the  breakfast  things." 

Presently,  I  had  more  hands  and  feet  offered 
me  than  were  necessary,  and  some  were  more  in 
the  way  than  in  service.  But  we  only  broke  one 
plate  among  us,  and  the  work  was  done  at  last. 
Then  Horace  and  Willie  were  very  busy  in  ar- 
ranging the  chairs  to  look  like  a  "  meeting,'  *  and 
Isabel  was  willing  to  take  the  baby.  She  is  very 
successful  in  taking  care  of  the  baby,  and  lets 
him  pull  about  her  curls  as  he  pleases.  Horace 
took  his  place  in  his  chair,  as  if  he  were  promis- 
ing to  be  quiet,  but  a  little  naughty  gleam  stole 
out  of  the  side  of  his  eye. 

But  I  told  the  children, — though  they  seated 
themselves  round  me,  as  though  I  were  the 
preacher,  —  that  we  were  not  in  a  church,  and 
would  not  have  services  as  if  we  were  in  a  church  ; 
that  we  had  no  preacher  here  to  teach  us,  but, 
instead,  we  would  try  and  preach  to  each  other, 
and  each  one  of  us  would  say  something,  and 
take  a  part  in  this  meeting.  I  said  that  we  would 
begin  with  the  youngest,  and  that  Willie  should 


196  THE   FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

read  us  a  hymn,  from  Mrs.  Barbauld's  Lessons, 
the  book  in  which  he  reads  at  school  every  day. 

Isabel  did  not  think  much  of  Willie's  reading, 
and  she  gave  more  attention  to  the  baby.  But 
we  all  thought  the  reading  was  better  than  we 
expected  from  the  little  fellow.  And  after  he 
had  read  a  few  verses,  Mary  read  the  rest  for  him. 

"  Can  we  raise  our  voices  up  to  the  high  heav- 
en ?  Can  we  make  Him  hear  who  is  above  the 
stars  ?  Yes  :  for  he  heareth  us  when  we  only 
whisper ;  when  we  breathe  out  words  softly  with 
a  low  voice.  He  that  filleth  the  heavens  is  here 
also. 

"  May  we  that  are  so  young  speak  to  Him  that 
always  was  ? 

"  May  we  that  can  hardly  speak  plain,  speak 
to  God  ? 

"  We  that  are  so  young,  are  but  lately  made 
alive  ;  therefore,  we  should  not  forget  his  form- 
ing hand,  who  hath  made  us  alive.  We  that 
cannot  speak  plain  should  lisp  out  praises  to  him, 
who  teacheth  us  how  to  speak,  and  hath  opened 
our  dumb  lips. 

"  When  we  could  not  think  of  him,  he  thought 
of  us ;  before  we  could  ask  him  to  bless  us,  he 
had  already  given  us  many  blessings. 

"  He  fashioneth  our  tender' limbs,  and  causeth 
them  to  grow ;  he  maketh  us  strong,  tall,  and 
nimble. 


THE   CHILDREN.  197 

"  Every  day  we  are  more  active  than  the  for- 
mer day ;  therefore  every  day  we  ought  to  praise 
him  better  than  the  former  day. 

"  The  buds  spread  into  leaves,  and  the  blos- 
soms swell  to  fruit ;  but  they  know  not  how  they 
grow,  nor  who  causeth  them  to  spring  up  from 
the  bosom  of  the  earth. 

"  Ask  them,  if  they  will  tell  thee  ;  bid  them 
break  forth  into  singing,  and  fill  the  air  with 
pleasant  sounds. 

"  They  smell  sweet ;  they  look  beautiful ;  but 
they  are  quite  silent ;  no  sound  is  in  the  still  air ; 
no  murmur  of  voices  among  the  green  leaves. 

"  The  plants  and  trees  are  made  to  give  fruit 
to  man ;  but  man  is  made  to  praise  God  who 
made  him. 

"  We  love  to  praise  him,  because  he  loveth  to 
bless  us  ;  we  thank  him  for  life,  because  it  is  a 
pleasant  thing  to  be  alive. 

"  We  love  God,  who  hath  created  all  beings ; 
we  love  all  beings,  because  they  are  the  creatures 
of  God. 

"  We  cannot  be  good,  as  God  is  good  to  all 
persons  everywhere ;  but  we  can  rejoice,  that 
everywhere  there  is  a  God  to  do  them  good. 

"  We  will  think  of  God  when  we  play,  and 
when  we  work ;  when  we  walk  out,  and  when 
we  come  in ;  when  we  sleep,  and  when  we  wake, 
his  praise  shall  dwell  continually  on  our  lips'." 
17* 


198  THE  FIFTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

Horace  was  very  restless  while  Willie  was 
reading,  and  grew  red  wlien  Willie  made  any 
mistakes  ;  but  he  listened  quietly  as  Mary  fin- 
ished reading  the  hymn. 

He  did  not  know  very  well  his  own  Sunday- 
school  lesson,  which  I  asked  him  to  repeat.  "  It 
was  something  about  being  afraid  of  God,"  he 
said.  I  should  have  preferred  it,  had  the  lesson 
taught  something  about  the  love  of  God  rather 
than  the  fear.  Children  sometimes  learn  from 
these  words,  "  the  fear  of  God,"  to  look  upon 
him  with  such  dread,  that  they  would  like  to 
shut  him  out  from  their  happier  moments.  In 
this  way  they  would  like  to  avoid  the  thought  of 
God  ;  and  when  they  grow  up,  are  obliged  by 
study  to  learn  to  love  him.  We  talked  a  little 
about  it,  and  I  tried  to  show  to  Horace,  that,  if  he 
were  a  good  child,  he  need  not  be  afraid  of  the 
presence  of  God. 

Am  I  wrong,  I  wonder,  in  teaching  him  such 
a  lesson  ?  Perhaps  this  restless  boy,  who  may 
always  be  rushing  into  the  roads  that  lead  to 
temptation,  —  perhaps  he  will  need  some  greater 
curb  than  I  am  aware  of.  Alas  !  who  am  I  to 
guide  such  a  mind  as  his  ?  Commands  often 
make  him  defiant,  requests  often  make  him  mali- 
cious, and,  young  as  he  is,  he  has  learnt  some  boy 
notions  of  making  fun  of  sentiment.  Tender 
words  seldom  seem  to  impress  him,  as  far  as  I 


THE   CHILDREN.  199 

can  tell.  All  day  lie  is  busy  with  boyish  games. 
When  he  is  reproved  for  his  mischievous  deeds, 
he  looks  up  with  wonder  at  the  reproof,  some- 
times with  a  smile  of  superiority,  as  if  he  had 
already  —  he,  the  little  fellow  —  thought  over 
the  consequences,  and  were  willing  to  bear  the 
risk. 

I  read  next  a   prayer  from  a  little  book  of 
prayers  belonging  to  the  children. 

"  Great  and  glorious  God,  who  hast  made  the 
sun  in  the  skies  to  give  light  by  day  ;  thy  throne 
is  in  the  highest  heaven,  yet  thy  goodness  takes 
notice  of  thy  creatures  on-  earth,  and  thou  near- 
est when  children  pray  to  thee. 

"  Look  down,  0  Lord,  and  pity  me ;  for  I  desire 
to  be  heartily  sorry  that  I  have  so  often  offended 
thee,  by  breaking  thy  commandments  ;  and  when 
I  am  serious,  I  am  grieved  to  think  that  I  should 
be  so  ready  to  break  them  again.  0  God  of 
mercy!  punish  me  not  as  my  faults  and  follies 
deserve,  either  in  this  world,  or  in  the  world  to 
come.  But  when  thou  bringest  pain  or  trouble 
upon  me,  let  me  be  patient  under  it,  and  grow 
better  for  it.  Send  thy  good  spirit  into  my  heart, 
to  subdue  my  evil  inclinations,  and  form  me  after 
the  likeness  of  thy  Son,  Jesus  Christ.  Preserve, 
me  from  the  danger  of  evil  company,  and  let  me 
choose  and  love  the  company  of  the  wise  and 
good  ;  nor   suffer  me   to   waste   those  hours  in 


200  THE   FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

idleness  or  play  which  are  allotted  for  my  learn- 
ing or  work.  Keep  my  heart  from  malice  and 
from  evil  thoughts.  Preserve  my  tongue  from 
lying  and  slandering,  and  all  evil  words.  With- 
hold my  hands  from  fighting  and  stealing,  and  all 
evil  actions.  Guard  my  feet  from  running  into 
mischief.  Let  me  dwell  with  my  companions  in 
peace  and  love,  and  be  ready  to  help  them  at  all 
times.  Let  me  not  dare  to  sin  against  thee  in 
secret,  remembering  that  I  am  always  in  thy 
sight.  Grant  me  sufficient  food  and  raiment 
while  I  live.  Increase  my  strength  daily.  Se- 
cure me  from  sickness  and  from  death  in  my 
younger  days,  that  I  may  do  some  service  for 
thee  on  earth  ;  and  when  I  die,  and  my  body  is 
carried  to  the  grave,  may  my  soul  be  taken  up  to 
live  for  ever  with  thee  and  with  thy  Son,  Jesus 
Christ. 

"  I  praise  thee,  0  Lord,  for  all  the  blessings  I 
have  ever  received,  for  they  all  come  from  thee. 
I  give  thee  thanks  for  my  rest  the  last  night,  and 
that  I  find  myself  in  peace  this  morning.  I  bless 
thee  for  my  sight  and  hearing;  for  all  my  senses 
and  my  powers  of  mind  and  body ;  and,  above  all, 
for  the  words  that  tell  me  the  life  of  Christ,  and 
for  all  the  helps  that  I  enjoy  in  order  to  the  sal- 
vation of  my  soul.  Let  me  so  carefully  fulfil  all 
my  duties  every  day,  that  I  may  come  with  de- 
light to  worship  thee  when  the  evening  returns. 


THE  CHILDREN*  .  201 

Heavenly  Father,  accept  all  my  prayers  and 
praises,  through  Jesus  Christ,  thy  well-beloved 
Son.     Amen. " 

The  children  were  very  quiet  as  I  read  this 
prayer,  and  then  Harry  said  to  me  his  Sunday- 
school  lesson.  He  had  learned  this  very  well,  — 
some  answers  to  questions  upon  the  New  Testa- 
ment. He  has  a  good  memory,  and  these  answers, 
which  he  had  learned  last  Sunday,  he  remem- 
bered very  well.  He  has  a  careful  teacher,  too,  at 
Sunday  school,  who  requires  that  he  should  learn 
the  meaning  of  what  he  is  saying,  —  a  very  neces- 
sary thing  for  Harry,  since  he  so  easily  learns  the 
words.  His  lesson  was  upon  the  passage  where 
the  mother  of  James  and  John  came  to  Jesus,  to 
ask  that  her  sons  might  sit  upon  his  right  hand 
in  his  kingdom.  And  Jesus  asked  them  if  they 
would  be  able  to  drink  of  the  cup  that  he  should 
drink  of,  and  be  baptized  with  his  baptism.  And 
James  and  John  had  promised  that  they  would 
be  able.  And  Harry  had  been  told  by  his  teach- 
er to  study  the  lives  of  James  and  John,  to  see  if 
they  had  performed  this  promise.  And  he  had 
found  out  how  James  was  the  first  martyr  among 
the  twelve  Apostles,  that  he  was  killed  by  Herod 
in  Jerusalem ;  that  John  suffered  long  for  the 
sake  of  Jesus,  and  in  his  long  life  never  forgot 
his  love  of  Christ.  While  he  had  studied  about 
these  he  had  thought  of  Judas,  who  died  a  mis- 


202  THE   FIFTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

erable  death  in  agony  and  remorse,  because  he- 
had  betrayed  his  Master,  and  had  sold  him  to  his 
enemies  for  a  few  pieces  of  silver. 

Then  Mary  repeated  a  hymn  she  knew,  which 
is  by  Keble,  on  this  subject. 


ST.  JAMES'S  DAY. 

Sit  down  and  take  thy  fill  of  joy 

At  God's  right  hand,  a  bidden  guest : 
Drink  of  the  cup  that  cannot  cloy, 

Eat  of  the  bread  that  cannot  waste. 
O  great  Apostle  !  rightly  now 

Thou  readest  all  thy  Saviour  meant, 
What  time  his  grave  yet  gentle  brow 

In  sweet  reproof  on  thee  was  bent. 

"  Seek  ye  to  sit  enthroned  by  me  ? 

Alas  !  ye  know  not  what  ye  ask ; 
The  first  in  shame  and  agony, 

The  lowest  in  the  meanest  task,  — 
This  can  ye  be  ?     And  can  ye  drink 

The  cup  that  I  in  tears  must  steep, 
Nor  from  the  whelming  waters  shrink, 

That  o'er  me  roll  so  dark  and  deep  ?  " 

"  We  come ;  thine  are  we,  dearest  Lord, 

In  glory  and  in  agony, 
To  do  and  suffer  all  thy  word ; 

Only  be  thou  for  ever  nigh." 


THE   CHILDREN.  203 

"  Then  be  it  so :  my  cup  receive, 

And  of  my  woes  baptismal  taste  ; 
But  for  the  crown  that  angels  weave 

For  those  next  me  in  glory  placed, 

"  I  give  it  not  by  partial  love ; 

But  in  my  Father's  book  are  writ 
What  names  on  earth  shall  lowliest  prove, 

That  they  in  heaven  may  highest  sit." 
Take  up  the  lesson,  O  my  heart ! 

Thou  Lord  of  meekness,  write  it  there ; 
Thine  own  meek  self  to  me  impart, 

Thy  lofty  hope,  thy  lowly  prayer. 

If  ever  on  the  mount  with  thee 

I  seem  to  soar  in  vision  bright, 
With  thoughts  of  coming  agony, 

Stay  Thou  the  too  presumptuous  flight ; 
Gently  along  the  vale  of  tears 

Lead  me  from  Tabor's  sun-bright  steep ; 
Let  me  not  grudge  a  few  short  years 

With  thee  toward  heaven  to  walk  and  weep. 

Too  happy,  on  my  silent  path, 

If  now  and  then  allowed,  with  thee 
Watching  some  placid,  holy  death, 

Thy  secret  work  of  love  to  see  ; 
But  oh !  most  happy,  should  thy  call, 

Thy  welcome  call,  at  last  be  given : 
"  Come  where  thou  long  hast  stored  thy  all ; 

Come,  see  thy  place  prepared  in  heaven ! " 


204  THE   FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

Then,  as  performing  my  part  of  the  service,  I 
read  the  following  sermon  of  Dr.  Arnold's  :  — 

CHRIST'S  WARNING  TO  THE  YOUNG. 

"  Then  Jesus,  beholding  him,  loved  him,  and  said  unto  him,  One 
thing  thou  lackest :  go  thy  way,  sell  whatsoever  thou  hast,  and  give 
to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven :  and  come,  take 
up  the  cross,  and  follow  me.  And  he  was  sad  at  that  saying,  and 
went  away  grieved;  for  he  had  great  possessions."  —  Mark  x. 
21,  22. 

There  came  a  young  man  to  Christ,  to  ask  him 
what  he  should  do  to  inherit  eternal  life ;  and 
Christ  named  to  him  some  of  the  ten  command- 
ments, to  which  the  young  man  replied,  "  All 
these  have  I  observed  from  my  youth."  Then 
says  the  Evangelist,  "  Jesus,  beholding  him,  loved 
him."  This  is,  as  it  were,  the  first  part  of  the 
story,  and  surely  this  case  is  very  like  our  own. 
Are  not  we  here  come  avowedly  to  learn  of  Christ, 
to  be  brought  up  in  Christian  truths  and  princi- 
ples, for  this  life  and  for  life  eternal  ?  And  if 
Christ  were  to  ask  us  of  our  knowledge  and  of 
our  practice,  surely  a  large  proportion  of  us 
would  be  able  to  answer  that  they  knew  the  main 
truths  of  the  Gospel  and  the  main  distinctions 
between  good  and  evil ;  and  many  of  us  might 
go  further,  and  say,  not  indeed  that  all  their  com- 
mon and  most  obvious  duties  they  had  followed 
from  their  youth  up,  but  at  least  that  they  had 


THE   CHILDREN.  205 

followed  many  of  them,  and  desired  still  to  follow 
them ;  that  from  much  evil  they  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  shrink,  and  purposed  and  hoped  to 
shrink  from  it  still.  And  so  great  is  the  tender- 
ness of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  all  his  people, 
and  especially  to  the  young,  that  when  he  sees 
any  of  you  so  living  as  I  have  described,  living, 
that  is,  respectably  and  amiably,  guilty  of  no 
gross  sins,  and  doing  many  duties,  loved  by  your 
friends,  and  affectionate  to  them  in  return,  it  is 
not  too  much  to  say  that  Christ  loves  you ;  that 
his  eye  is  upon  you  with  a  loving  anxiety ;  that 
he  regards  you  with  nothing  of  severity  nor  of 
threatening,  but  with  an  earnest  desire  that  you 
may  become  wholly  his,  and  be  loved  by  him 
for  ever.  f 

So  it  is  then,  so  we  may  venture  to  apply  it, 
that  we  stand  before  Christ  to-day.  Jesus,  be- 
holding us,  loves  us.  His  voice  to  us  is  nothing 
harsh,  but  full  of  gracious  encouragement;  all 
that  there  is  of  good  in  us  he  acknowledges,  and 
regards  with  approbation  and  love.  But  let  us 
hear  his  words,  for  he  speaks  to  the  young  man 
who  had  just  declared  that  he  had  constantly  kept 
his  commandments,  and  whom  as  he  beheld  him 
he  loved  :  "  One  thing  thou  lackest :  go  thy  way, 
sell  whatsoever  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor, 
and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven:  and 
come,  take  up  the  cross,  and  follow  me."     What 

18 


206  THE   FIFTH  STORMY   SUNDAY. 

is  this  when  addressed  to  us  ?  will  he,  does  he, 
find  that  there  is  one  thing  which  we  lack  also, 
and  which  he  bids  us  without  delay  to  gain  ?  Or 
might  he  say  to  us  that  we  are  all  clean,  all  his 
true  servants,  going  on  from  good  to  better,  and 
lacking  nothing  at  all  but  that  ripeness  which 
added  years  will  not  fail  to  give  us  ?  If  our 
consciences  will  not  suffer  us  to  believe  this, 
then  it  must  be  that  Christ  is  saying  to  us, 
"  One  thing  thou  lackest"  ;  there  may  be  many 
things  which  we  lack,  but  there  must  at  least 
be  one. 

Now  the  one  thing  which  he  sees  wanting  in  so 
many  of  us  is  expressed  clearly  in  the  latter  part 
of  his  words  to  the  young  man  in  the  Gospel. 
He  tells  us,  "  Come,  take  up  the  cross,  and  follow 
me."  The  words  are  figurative,  we  see,  when  he 
says,  "  Take  up  the  cross,"  and  we  may  ask  what 
the  figure  means.  But  we  know  that,  in  the 
Latin  language,  the  term  crux,  or  cross,  had  been 
long  used  to  express  generally  any  great  pain  or 
evil ;  and  the  words  crucio  and  cruciatus  derived 
from  it  are  yet  used  only  generally ;  they  do  not 
express  literally  the  pain  or  suffering  of  crucifix- 
ion, but  pain  and  torment  simply.  And  this 
manner  of  speaking  had  come  into  use,  because 
the  Romans  used  the  punishment  of  crucifixion 
commonly,  not  only  towards  slaves,  but  towards 
criminals  generally  of  their  subject  nations,  un- 


•  THE   CHILDREN.  207 

less  they  were  persons  of  high  condition.  So  that 
when  our  Lord  tells  the  young  man  to  take  up 
his  cross,  it  meant  exactly,  "  Bear  thy  pain  or  thy 
suffering,  whatever  it  may  be,  and  follow  me." 
And  so  he  had  said  in  another  place,  "  He  that 
taketh  not  his  cross  and  followeth  after  mo,  is  not 
worthy  of  me,"  — meaning  the  very  same  thing  ; 
he  who  does  not  submit  willingly  to  his  pain  or 
suffering,  and  continue  to  follow  after  me  not- 
withstanding the  pain,  he  is  not  worthy  of  me. 
In  both  places  we  see  that  the  taking  up  the  cross 
is  joined  with  the  following  after  him ;  in  both 
places  the  cross  means  the  same  thing,  —  cruci- 
atum  rather  than  crucem,  —  pain,  suffering,  bur- 
den, evil  hard  to  bear,  let  the  particular  kind  be 
what  it  may. 

Now  to  take  one  of  those  seeming  contradic- 
tions in  the  Scriptures,  of  which  I  have  spoken 
so  often,  as  containing  some  of  the  Scripture's 
most  useful  lessons,  let  us  put  side  by  side  our 
Lord's  words,  "  Take  up  thy  cross  and  follow  me," 
and  his  other  words,  "  My  yoke  is  easy  and  my 
burden  is  light."  In  one  place  he  seems  to  call 
his  followers  to  the  most  painful  service,  in  the 
other  to  tell  them  that  their  pain  will  be  nothing 
at  all.  What  is  now  called  our  cross,  that  strong 
term  signifying  the  extremity  of  pain  and  suffer- 
ing, is  again  called  an  easy  yoke,  and  a  light  bur- 
den.    Take  them  out  of  their  right  order,  and 


208  THE   FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY.  % 

they  arc  falsehood  and  death  ;  take  them  in  their 
right  order  and  according  to  Christ's  mind,  and 
they  are  truth  and  life. 

He  calls  us  to  take  up  our  cross  and  follow 
him.  We  were  following  him,  not  taking  up  our 
cross ;  we  were  following  him  where  to  follow 
him  was  easy,  and  it  is  many  times  very  easy. 
We  loved  those  who  loved  us  ;  we  were  glad  to 
please  them ;  it  is  good  and  right  so  to  do,  but 
surely  not  very  hard  or  painful.  We  abstained 
from  low  vices,  vices  disgusting  and  discreditable  ; 
good  and  right  also,  but  surely  involving  no  se- 
vere sacrifice.  We  were  good-natured  and  good- 
humored  when  we  were  pleased  and  happy ;  a 
right  temper  and  an  amiable  one,  but  still  there 
is  no  bearing  our  cross  in  this.  He  beholds  us, 
and  loves  us,  but  he  calls  us  to  something  of  a 
more  real  service.  He  says,  "  You  have  followed 
me  where  it  was  easy,  and  you  have  done  well ; 
but  now  prepare  for  something  far  more  trying, 
—  I  call  you  to  follow  me  where  it  is  hard.  Be 
quite  sure  that  there  is  in  you,  somewhere  or 
other,  a  temper  or  an  inclination  which  does  not 
suit  my  law.  Follow  me  in  this  point,  and  you 
will  know  what  it  is  to  take  up  your  cross ;  fol- 
low me  always,  and  this  point,  and  many  such 
points,  will  be  found  in  you.',  It  is  easy  to  be 
temperate  in  meat  and  drink  when  you  are  nei- 
ther hungry  nor  thirsty.    It  is  easy  to  speak  truth 


THE   CHILDREN.  209 

when  the  truth  is  convenient  and  creditable.  It 
is  easy  to  work  when  the  work  to  be  done  is  pleas- 
ant, and  when  you  are  strong ;  but  to  be  temper- 
ate always,  to  speak  truth  always,  to  do  our  ap- 
pointed, work  always,  this  is  -not  easy,  this  is  to 
bear  our  cross.  And  here,  in  how  many  points 
is  your  cross  very  near  to  you,  the  pleasant  fault 
to  be  shunned,  the  painful  duty  to  be  done,  the 
scornful  smile  to  be  endured  and  unheeded,  the 
unkindness  to  be  borne  without  irritation  or  de- 
sire to  return  evil  for  evil,  the  regulation  to  be 
kept  when  it  may  be  broken  without  detection, 
and  apparently  with  no  worse  fault  than  the  sim- 
ple breaking  it:  all  these  things,  and  such  as 
these,  which  run  through  your  lives  daily,  which 
you  well  know  from  past  experience,  which  are 
coming  or  come  to  you  again  this  half-year,  as 
they  came  the  last,  —  these  are  the  things  with  re- 
gard to  which  Christ  tells  you,  "  One  thing  thou 
lackest ;  come,  take  up  thy  cross,  and  follow  me." 
Now  may  I  venture  to  alter  the  words  of  what 
next  follows  in  the  Gospel,  while  I  faithfully  keep 
its  spirit :  "  They  were  sad  at  that  saying,  and 
went  away  grieved ;  for  they  were  young  and  at 
school."  Even  so  it  is,  and  even  such  is  some- 
times the  vqij  actual  language  which  may  be 
heard :  This  is  too  hard  for  us  ;  it  is  not  possible 
to  be  fully  such  as  we  should  be  at  school ;  there 
are  things,  not  right  we  know,  but  which  we  can- 
is* 


210  THE   FIFTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

not  help  doing ;  there  are  things,  right  we  know, 
but  which  we  cannot  here  set  ourselves  to  prac- 
tise ;  the  principles  and  practice  around  us  must 
in  some  degree  be  ours ;  we  have  followed  Christ 
in  many  things  from  our  youth  up,  and  hope  still 
to  follow  him,  but  this  hard  saying,  to  follow  him 
where  it  is  very  painful,  to  shun  the  fault  which 
all  practise,  to  do  the  duty  which  all  neglect,  this 
we  cannot  do.  And  even  so  it  is  continually ; 
they  go  away  grieved,  for  they  are  young,  and 
they  are  at  school. 

"  Then  Jesus  looked  round  about  and  said, 
How  hardly  shall  they  that  'are  young  enter  into 
the  kingdom  of  God !  It  is  easier  for  a  camel  to 
go  through  a  needle's  eye,  than  for  a  young  man 
to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  And  they 
were  astonished  out  of  measure,  saying  among 
themselves,  Who  then  can  be  saved  ?  And  Jesus 
looking  upon  them  saith,  With  men  it  is  impossi- 
ble, but  not  with  Uod,  for  with  God  all  things  are 
possible."  This  is  the  very  real  Scripture  of  the 
passage  as  applied  to  you.  What  hindered  the 
young  man  in  the  story  from  taking  up  his  cross 
was  his  riches  ;  what  hinders  you,  so  at  least  we 
hear  it  sometimes  said,  is  your  being  young  and 
being  at  school.  This  is  'the  excuse  urged,  the 
extreme  difficulty  of  making  the  sacrifice  required 
in  your  actual  circumstances,  just  as  the  young 
man  found  it  so  difficult  in  his  actual  circum- 


THE   CHILDREN.  211 

stances  to  sell  all  that  he  had.  His  cross  was 
surely  not  lighter  than  ours,  but  much  heavier, 
but  he  could  not  take  it  up,  and  he  went  away 
grieved,  much  grieved  that  he  could  not  be  good 
easily ;  that  the  tWo  things  which  he  loved,  his 
duty  and  his  comfort,  and  which  had  long  been 
united,  were  now  divided;  both  he  could  have 
no  longer,  yet  it  grieved  him  to  part  with  either. 
He  went  away  grieving ;  and  surely  with  a  far 
deeper  grief  did  our  merciful  Lord  look  after  him 
as  he  went  away,  and  see  him  whom  he  had  loved, 
him  whom  he  had  hoped  to  love  always,  now 
turning  to  destruction.  But  did  he  call  after  him 
and  say,  "  Turn  back,  thou  young  man,  for  I  love 
thee  still,  and  if  thou  wilt  not  follow  me  taking 
up  thy  cross,  follow  me  without  it,  when  thou 
wilt  and  where  thou  wilt,  and  no  farther.' '  Alas ! 
nothing  of  the  kind.  His  own  way  led  to  Cal- 
vary, thither  his  Father's  will  called  him.  He 
was  to  bear  the  cross  for  us  all*  not  figuratively, 
but  literally.  Thither  he  must  go,  and  thither 
must  those  follow  him  who  would  be  with  him 
for  ever.  Wherefore  he  looked  round  about  on 
those  who  still  remained  with  him,  and  said, 
"How  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches,"  — 
"  they  that  are  young  and  at  school,"  he  says  to 
those  to  whom  that  is  their  difficulty,  —  "how 
hardly  shall  they  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God ! " 
His  disciples  were  astonished  at  his  words,  and 


212  THE  FIFTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

they  are  often  astonished  still;  nay,  they  say, 
"  Youth  surely  is  an  excuse,  the  young  cannot 
serve  him  fully.' '  But  he  says  again,  "  And 
therefore  it  is  easier,  if  this  be  so,  for  a  camel  to 
go  through  a  needle's  eye,  than  for  a  young  man 
to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God."  Then  say 
we  in  astonishment  beyond  measure,  "  Who  then 
can  be  saved  ?  "  But  he  answers,  "  With  men  it 
is  impossible,  but  not  with  God,  for  with  God  all 
things  are  possible."  Yes,  if  that  rich  man  had 
not  turned  away  from  Christ,  but  had  run  up 
closer  to  him,  and  had  thrown  himself  at  his  feet, 
crying  out-  and  saying  with  tears,  "  Lord,  I  will 
follow  thee  ;  help  me  to  follow  thee  whithersoever 
thou  goest,"  —  then  surely  his  gracious  Saviour 
would  have  beheld  him  and  loved  him  far  more 
than  at  first,  and  would  have  given  him  the 
strength  which  he  needed,  and  that  which  was  so 
hard  would  have  been  done,  and  the  rich  man 
would  have  entered  into  the  kingdom  of  God. 
The  application  lies  at  the  door.  You  have  heard 
Christ's  call,  to  take  up  your  cross  and  follow 
him,  to  serve  him  always  in  all  things,  in  small 
and  great,  in  thought,  word,  and  deed,  there 
most  carefully  where  it  costs  you  most  pain  to  do 
it.  But  do  not  go  away  grieving,  because  you 
are  young,  and  because  you  are,at  a  place  where 
temptations  are  many,  and  faithful  steady  service 
of  Christ  will  cost  you  many  a  sacrifice.     Turn 


THE   CHILDREN.  213 

not  from  him,  but  to  him  much  rather,  with  ear- 
nest prayer  that  he  who  bore  his  most  painful 
cross  for  you  will  enable  you  to  bear  your  light 
one  for  his  love  ;  that  he  will  help  you  daily,  as 
your  trial. will  come  daily  ;  that  his  strength  may 
be  made  perfect  in  your  weakness.  And  then, 
though  the  thing  be  harder  than  that  a  camel 
should  pass  through  a  needle's  eye,  yet  shall  it  be 
done.  The  young  and  they  that  are  at  school, 
with  all  their  carelessness,  with  all  their  difficul- 
ties from  without  as  well  as  from  within,  they 
shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  for  so  some 
have  entered,  and  so  shall  some  enter  again,  and 
so  may  all  enter  who  do  not  turn  away  from 
their  cross,  but  ask  Christ's  grace  to  help  them 
to  bear  it.  />-■  9"  TRE 

■  (fa  STIVER  SIT' 


IT 


Harry  listened  with  some  interest.  .  Mttle  Wil- 
lie had  fallen  asleep,  his  head  in  Mary's  arms. 
A  part  of  the  time  Horace  was  restless.  I  think 
a  part  of  the  time  he  made  a  horse  of  his  shoe, 
and  used  the  strings  for  reins.  But  he  was  more 
quiet  than  I  expected. 

Then  I  took  the  opportunity,  while  the  baby 
was  asleep,  to  hear  Isabel's  Sunday-school  les- 
son. It  was  in  "  Lessons  on  the  Parables  of  the 
Saviour."  Isabel  did  not  know  her  lesson  very 
well,  but  I  made  all  the  children  find  the  Parable 


214  THE    FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

that  was  the  subject  of  the  lesson,  in  the  eigh- 
teenth chapter  of  Luke. 

"  And  he  spake  this  parable  unto  certain  which 
trusted  in  themselves  that  they  were  righteous, 
and  despised  others. 

"  Two  men  went  up  into  the  temple  to  pray, 
the  one  a  Pharisee  and  the  other  a  publican. 

"  The  Pharisee  stood  and  prayed  thus  with  him- 
self: God,  I  thank  thee  that  I  am  not  as  other 
men  are,  extortioners,  unjust,  adulterers,  or  even 
as  this  publican. 

"  I  fast  twice  in  the  week,  I  give  tithes  of  all 
that  I  possess. 

"  And  the  publican,  standing  afar  off,  would  not 
lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes  unto  heaven,  but 
smote  upon  his  breast,  saying,  God  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner. 

"  I  tell  you,  this  man  went  down  to  his  house 
justified  rather  than  the  other ;  for  every  one  that 
exalteth  himself  shall  be  abased,  and  he  that 
humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted." 

I  asked  all  the  children  in  turn  the  questions 
in  the  Lesson  upon  this  Parable,  that  they  might 
give  what  answers  they  knew  best.  Harry  knew 
all  about  the  Pharisees  and  the  scribes.  When  I 
asked,  "  Who  were  those  haughty'  persons  that 
thought  themselves  righteous  and  despised  oth- 
ers ?  "  Horace  said  there  were  a  great  many  at 
Sunday  school,  and  began  to  name  over  some 


THE   CHILDREN.  215 

names.  Harry  laughed,  and  said  he  knew  of  some 
there  too.  There  was  Flora  Temple,  and  some 
others,  who  swept  by  as  if  there  were  nobody  fit  to 
speak  to.  And  some  of  the  teachers,  too,  thought 
themselves  righteous,  and  despised  others.  He 
was  glad  he  was  not  like  them ! 

Clara  interrupted  Harry,  and  said,  "  Take  care ! 
you  are  beginning  to  be  thankful  that  you  are  not 
unjust,  as  other  men  are." 

Mary  said  that  Miss  Grace,  who  used  to  be  her 
Sunday-school  teacher,  used  to  say  that  people 
who  prided  themselves  upon  their  liberality,  often 
shut  themselves  up  in  pride,  thanking  God  that 
they  were  not  like  these  other  men,  and  forget-, 
ting  the  limits  they  themselves  put  upon  other 
people. 

But  this  Harry  and  Horace  did  not  understand. 
They  had  begun  to  talk  of  the  different  people 
they  did  not  like  at  school  and  at  Sunday  school, 
and  were  brought  back  to  the  lesson  with  diffi- 
culty. On  the  whole,  they  gave  very  good  answers 
to  the  questions.  The  subject  was  insincerity 
and  hypocrisy.  And  that  is  what  children  see 
through  very  quickly,  and  from  their  own  im- 
pulses despise.  Grown-up  people,  who  are  not  in 
the  habit  of  being  with  children,  are  hardly  aware 
how  they  fall,  in  the  estimation  even  of  a  little 
child,  when  they  are  detected  in  an  untruth.  To 
be  in  the  presence  of  children  is  more  a  test  "of 


216  THE   FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

truth,  than  to  sit  constantly  opposite  a  mirror 
would  be.  They  detect  the  least  deviation,  they 
insist  on  a  clear  statement. 

Clara's  lesson  was  upon  a  chapter  in  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles,  which  they  are  reading  by  way  of 
preparation  for  reading  Conybeare's  Life  of  St. 
Paul.  It  was  in  the  third  chapter  of  Acts,  and 
she  told  how  Peter  and  John  healed  the  lame 
man  at  the  gate  of  the  temple,  with  the  words  of 
Peter :  "  Silver  and  gold  have  I  none,  but  such 
as  I  have  give  I  thee."  Clara's  teacher  had  told 
her  scholars  to  bring  her  some  account  of  others 
who  had  imitated  Peter  and  John,  and  had  given 
not  merely  silver  and  gold,  but  all  that  they  had, 
for  the  good  of  others.  Clara  had  chosen,  with- 
out consulting  anybody,  to  write  a  little  Life  of 
Elizabeth  of  Hungary.  She  was  led  to  do  this, 
because  some  one,  a  little  while  ago,  had  given 
her  a  picture  of  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  which 
represented  her  holding  open  her  apron  filled 
with  roses.  And  she  had  been  told  the  legend, — 
that  this  princess  was  filled  with  such  a  passion 
for  charity  that  she  gave  away  all  that  she  had 
to  the  poor,  until  at  last  her  husband  forbade  her 
to  give  any  more.  But  when  she  heard  of  the 
sufferings  of  the  poor  people  who  were  famishing 
around  her  castle,  she  could  resist  no  longer,  and 
went  out  with  her  apron  filled  with  bread  and 
food  from  her  table,  to  give  to  them.     On  the 


THE  CHILDREN.  217 

narrow  pathway  down  the  hill  from  her  castle 
she  was  met  by  her  husband,  who  spoke  to  her 
roughly,  and  seized  her,  and  asked  her  why  she 
had  disobeyed  his  commands.  At  the  same  time 
he  opened  her  apron,  and  found  it  filled  only 
with  roses !  This  legend  had  made  Clara  anx- 
ious to  know  the  real  history  of  Elizabeth  of 
Hungary.  We  read  the  little  Life  that  Clara  had 
written,  though  she  would  not  stay  and  listen  to 
it,  but  went  to  rock  the  cradle,  and  to  take  care 
of  the  baby.  It  was  very  prettily  written,  such 
as  a  young  girl  would  be  likely  to  write,  —  with 
many  sentimental  words,  perhaps,  but  simply 
written  too.  Harry  liked  it;  so  did  Mary  and 
Isabel. 

Then  we  sang  one  of  the  children's  hymns, 
while  Isabel  played  upon  the  piano,  and  baby, 
who  had  waked  up,  seemed  to  like  the  music. 

Mary  asked  me  if  I  would  read  a  story  she 
had  written  for  the  children.  "Partly  for  the 
children,"  she  said,  —  and  I  think  partly  to  help 
herself.     It  was  called 

THE  WATCHMAN. 

You  know  how  my  watch  stands  at  night  in 
the  pretty  watch-case  that  papa  gave  me  at  New 
Year's.  It  hangs  in  the  tower  of  a  little  castle, 
and  at  the  door  of  the  castle  stands  a  little  watch- 

19 


218  THE  FIFTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

man,  as  if  to  guard  the  entrance.  Every  night 
my  watch  hangs  in  the  tower,  by  my  bedside, 
where  I  can  see  it  if  I  lie  awake,  and  often  in 
the  daytime  it  rests  there  too,  when  I  am  not 
well,  and  must  lie  on  the  bed.  It  entertains  me 
sometimes,  even  when  I  am  in  pain,  to  see  how 
the  hours  go  by,  and  I  never  forget  the  pleasure 
I  had  at  first,  when  the  little  watch  was  first 
given  me. 

The  other  night  I  had  been  lying  awake  a  long 
time,  very  tired  of  thinking,  very  tired  of  lying 
awake,  wondering  if  I  never  should  sleep,  when, 
because  I  had  nothing  else  to  do,  I  suppose,  I 
began  to  listen  to  the  ticking  of  my  watch.  It 
seems  to  you,  perhaps,  that  the  ticking  of  a 
watch  has  a  great  deal  of  sameness  in  it,  one 
tick  being  very  much  like  another.  But  then  it 
sounded  to  me  very  like  words,  as  if  the  watch 
were  very  busily  talking,  and  with  the  watchman 
below.  It  did  not  give  the  watchman  much 
chance  to  answer,  but  ran  on,  a  word  a  second, 
till  I  fell  asleep  :  — 

"  Down  in  the  kitchen  !  Think  of  my  spend- 
ing the  day  in  the  kitchen  !  I  did  think,  when 
I  heard  of  it,  you  might  have  drawn  your  sword 
in  my  defence.  For,  pray,  what  are  you  put 
there  for,  except  to  guard  me  and  my  dignity  ? 
When  I  heard  Mrs.  Blake  ask  Miss  Mary  to  lend 
cook  her  watch,  because  the  kitchen  clock  had 


THE   CHILDREN.  219 

stopped,  I  had  really  half  a  mind  to  stop  myself. 
I  have  done  such  things  wheil  I  was  younger. 
At  that  Christmas  party,  a  year  or  two  ago,  when 
I  knew  our  dear  Mary  would  like  to  stay  for  a 
few  more  dances,  I  stopped  precisely  at  nine. 
And  it  was  hard  work,  too,  for  the  music  set  all 
my  cogs  going,  and  I  should  have  liked  well 
enough  to  have  kept  time  to  her  feet !  Then  it 
was  I  made  her  late  for  the  train,  when  she  was 
coming  away  from  Ferndale.  I  knew  she  would 
like  to  stay  to  the  afternoon  picnic,  if  she  had 
only  a  good  reason.  But  those  were  youthful 
follies  !  Now  we  have  a  dignity  to  keep  up,  and 
we  succeed.  Lady's  watches !  How  they  are 
sneered  at !  I  am  sure  the  women  keep  up  with 
the  times  more  than  the  men." 

"  Pray  don't  get  upon  the  woman's  rights 
question,"  interrupted  the  watchman. 

"  But  down  I  went  to  the  kitchen,  and  was 
on  my  good  behavior.  I  was  determined  to  set 
an  example  for  that  kitchen  clock.  It  is  always 
behind  time,  and  the  potatoes  always  come  on  to 
the  table  underdone,  and  dinner  at  least  half  a 
minute  behindhand. 

"  I  created  an  excitement  in  the  kitchen,  I 
can  tell  you.  As  I  hung  over  the  mantelpiece, 
the  tongs  tumbled  forward  upon  their  head  to 
see  me.  An  ill-bred  pair,  those  tongs.  I  ob- 
served they  were  constantly  falling  out.      The 


220  THE   FIFTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

gridiron  stood  upon  its  hind  legs  to  grin  at  me. 
And  some  turnips  on  the  kitchen  table  absolutely 
claimed  relationship  with  me  !  A  difficult  place, 
you  will  agree,  to  maintain  one's  self-respect, 
and  go  on  with  one's  duties  systematically.  My 
springs  were  constantly  jarred  by  the  voices  and 
loud  laughs  of  the  cook  and  the  chambermaids. 
I  hope  that  kitchen  clock  is  made  of  sterner  stuff 
than  I !  I  was  truly  thankful  I  had  my  hands 
before  my  face  all  the  time,  to  hide  my  blushes. 
The  iron  pots  and  kettles  made  such  a  coarse 
noise,  too,  as  they  were  lifted  off  the  fire,  it  set 
my  teeth  all  on  edge.  Such  unpunctuality, — 
never  boiling  up  at  the  right  moment !  If  one 
could  only  impress  upon  people  what  it  is  to  be 
a  watch,  the  importance  of  regulating  the  time 
for  others,  there  would  not  be  so  many  lost  min- 
utes in  the  world  ! 

"  But  I  suppose  there  are  alleviations  in  the  low- 
est condition  of  life,  and  I  was  not  insensible  to 
them.  The  smell  of  the  steak  came  up  refresh- 
ingly from  the  fire,  and  it  was  done  and  taken  up 
just  at  the  right  moment,  thanks  to  my  punctual- 
ity, which  really  imposed  upon  the  cook.  The 
eggs  at  breakfast  were  done  to  a  point.  You  ob- 
serve that,  when  time  is  well  regulated,  everything 
else  falls  into  order  too.  So  cook  had  time  to  set 
her  kitchen  to  rights,  which  I  have  not  seen  for 
many  a  day.     This  consciousness  of  an  influence 


THE   CHILDREN.  221 

docs  something  to  spread  a  charm  of  self-satisfac- 
tion over  the  roughest  lot ! 

"But  the  marked  moment  of  my  morning  was 
when  the  cook's  niece  came  in.  She  struck  me 
as  soon  as  I  saw  her,  —  a  pretty,  curly-haired 
child,  with  such  an  air  of  neatness  about  her !  She 
discovered  me  as  soon  as  she  came  in.  '  0,  what 
a  pretty  little  clock  ! '  she  exclaimed.  Now  this 
touched  my  vanity  !  To  be  a  clock,  that  always 
has  been  the  summit  of  my  ambition.  To  be 
able  to  strike  now  and  then,  and  express  one's  self 
in  a  way  that  is  listened  to.  Everybody  respects 
the  striking  of  a  clock,  and  stops  to  hear  what  it 
says,  while  one  might  tick  on  for  ever  without  any 
notice  being  taken  of  it !  The  notice  is  taken 
when  we  stop  ticking.  How  ungrateful  that  is  ! 
No  one  praises  our  regularity,  but  everybody  is 
ready  with  their  blame  if  we  rest  a  minute,  or  our 
wheels  are  out  of  order  once  in  a  while ! 

"  But  to  be  a  clock  in  a  church-tower,  that  is 
what  I  have  sighed  for !  I  like  this  little  tower 
we  rest  in  because  it  shows  in  little  what  I  would 
like  to  be.  Think  haw  grand  to  strike  so  that  a 
whole  town  would  hear,  —  everybody  listening! 
To  peal  out  '  one '  o'clock  in  the  'middle  of  the 
day.  Not  a  word  more  !  Think  what  restrained 
power!  To  stop  just  at  that.  Majestically  it 
sounds  forth,  and  all  the  workmen  are  listening, 
and  they  stop  work  awhile.     It  is  the  middle  of 

19* 


222  THE   FIFTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

the  day,  and  the  weathercock  on  top  of  the  spire 
shows  that  the  sun  is  beginning  to  drop  down  to 
its  setting.  Everybody  wonders  if  he  has  done 
half  his  work,  for  the  last  part  of  the  day  has 
sounded  out  its  first  hour. 

"  Then  how  grand  to  peal  out  twelve  at  mid- 
night, when  nobody  else  is  speaking,  when  there 
is  not  a  voice  to  be  h§ard  anywhere,  —  no  other 
voice  but  this !  It  marks  the  middle  of  the  night 
for  the  wakeful  that  are  longing  for  morning,  and 
it  startles  the  guilty  wanderer.  Nobody  else  ven- 
tures to  speak  so  loud  just  then.  The  church- 
clock  has  it  its  own  way.  But  it  does  its  duty  ; 
it  would  not  strike  a  stroke  less,  and  more  none 
but  an  Italian  clock  would  think  of. 

"  Then  for  each  separate  hour  somebody  is  lis- 
tening. Some  are  waiting  impatiently  for  it,  some 
are  dreading  its  approach ;  others  it  wakes  up 
from  their  busy  toil,  or  out  of  their  indolence. 
Yet  to  some  one  just  that  hour  is  dear,  and  the 
voice  of  the  clock  seems  just  then  musical  as 
timely.  Clocks  and  watches  have  to  thank  rail- 
roads for  giving  them  more  respect  than  they  had 
in  former  days.  In  running  to  a  railway  station, 
nobody  cares  for  a  better  companion  than  his 
watch.  An4  how  many  eyes  are  cast  up  to  the 
church-clock  from  hasty  travellers,  who  have  not 
time  to  consult  their  private  watches ! 

"  But  my  experience  of  to-day  has  taught  me 


THE   CHILDREN.  223 

a  lesson.  I  am  satisfied  with  my  own  lot.  There 
are  lower  positions  than  ours,  and  harder  fates. 
I  must  be  thankful  for  what  I  do  enjoy.  And  I 
have  learnt  content  from  those  whom  I  thought 
worse  off  than  I.  That  kitchen  clock  is  really 
respectable.  It  would  not  look  well  in  the  par- 
lor, but  I  am  convinced  it  does  as  well  as  it  can. 
After  all,  we  are  all  of  us  dependent  upon  some 
one  who  winds  us  up. 

"  I  can  remember,  in  my  younger  days,  when 
Miss  Mary  and  I  went  about  visiting  this  one  here, 
and  that  one  there.  What  a  gay  life  we  led !  We 
thought  it  a  usefnl  one  too.  We  fancied  we  were 
doing  a  great  deal.  Now  she  has  to  lie  still,  do- 
ing nothing  sometimes  all  day  long.  And  I,  too, 
have  to  keep  quiet ;  yet  I  feel  that  it  is  just  as  im- 
portant to  be  regular  with  my  time,  as  when  we 
felt  we  must  be  at  a  certain  place  precisely  at  a 
certain  hour.  Perhaps,  after  all,  that  was  not  as 
important  as  we  thought  it.  Perhaps  the  duties 
we  performed  then  were  not  so  great  in  value  as 
the  patience  we  practise  now.  I  used  to  tick  on 
as  regularly  as  I  could,  but  so  taken  up  with 
what  was  going  on,  that  I  never  thought  about 
the  hours  till  some  clock  struck  them  for  me. 
Now  I  watch  the  hours  as  they  go  by,  and  learn 
the  value  of  a  single  minute. 

"  At  first,  this  seemed  a  weary  business,  but  now 
that  we  learn  it  is  our  business,  we  try  not  to  do 


224        THE  FIFTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

it  wearily.  I  am  thankful  that  I  am  still  wound 
up  regularly  every  night,  and  never  have  to  stand 
still  from  forgetfulness ;  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
keep  my  time  regularly  and  truly,  and  cheerfully 
too.  Nobody  can  accuse  me  of  an  indolent  ex- 
pression in  my  ticking " 

The  voice  went  on,  and  I  could  not  tell  if  it 
were  the  watch  speaking,  or  I  thinking,  —  think- 
ing that  I,  too,  ought  to  be  grateful,  even  if  I 
were  dependent  upon  others  for  my  "  winding 
up."  I  cannot  go  about  of  my  own  will,  much 
more  than  my  little  watch.  But  I  need  not  envy 
the  days  when  I  used  to  go  about  as  the  rest  of 
you  do,  for  I  have  still  my  own  time  to  keep,  with 
patience  and  regularity. 

And  I  have  such  a  pleasant  home  to  rest  in, 
and  cared  for  by  friends,  and  cheered  by  child- 
ren's voices.  And  my  watchman?  I  went  to 
sleep  offering  up  my  heart  and  soul  into  the  care 
of  Him  who  slumbers  not  nor  sleeps. 


After  we  had  listened  to  Mary's  story,  which 
the  children  heard,  laughingly  at  first,  and  after- 
wards interestedly,  Harry  took  a  book  to  read, 
"  Tom  Brown's  School  Days  at  Rugby." 

Horace  took  Willie  up  to  Mary's  watch-case  to 
see  if  the  watch  would  say  anything  to  them-  and 


THE   CHILDREN.  225 

then  came  down,  and  asked  for  a  book  to  show 
Willie  some  pictures.  They  had  a  noisy  time 
over  these,  but  not  an  angry  time,  as  these  two 
boys  do  sometimes  when  they  are  left  together. 
Horace  is  too  fond  of  teasing  his  little  brother, 
but  to-day  he  seemed  more  subdued,  and  exerted 
himself  to  entertain  Willie.  Meanwhile  I  had 
a  few  minutes'  quiet  talk  with  Mary. 

Mr.  Blake  came  home  at  noon.  There  was 
such  a  storm,  the  church  was  to  be  closed  for 
the  afternoon.  We  did  not  hare  a  very  quiet 
afternoon.  The  children  were  restless,  baby  and 
all ;  the  baby  would  not  leave  me,  and  Willie  was 
tired,  and  Horace  troubled  him.  Towards  the 
end  of  the  afternoon,  Harry  came  to  ask  me  if  I 
would  not  read  something  more  to  him  ;  he  should 
not  care  if  it  was  a  sermon,  and  he  was  tired  of 
reading  by  himself.  The  baby  was  so  unwilling 
to  leave  me,  that  I  persuaded  Isabel  to  read  to 
Harry,  and  they  went  into  a  corner,  and  read 
another  of  Dr.  Arnold's  sermons  that  I  chose  for 
them,  one  that  had  some  striking  pictures'in  it, 
which  I  thought  might  touch  a  boy. 


226  THE  FIFTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

CHRIST'S   CRUCIFIXION. 

"  And  the  people  stood  beholding."  —  Luke  xxiii.  35. 

It  was  our  Lord  upon  the  cross  whom  they 
were  beholding,  and  they  who  so  beheld  him 
were  the  mixed  multitude  which,  with  all  sorts 
of  feelings,  poured  out  of  the  walls  of  Jerusalem 
to  see  the  spectacle.  And  so  it  is  still ;  Christ  is 
crucified  among  us  daily,  and  the  people  stand 
beholding. 

They  stand  beholding,  an  infinite  variety  of 
persons  with  an  infinite  variety  of  feelings,  even 
as  the  multitude  who  then  stood  around  his  cross. 
There  was  his  mother,  and  there  was  his  beloved 
disciple  ;  there  was  the  centurion ;  there  were 
the  women  of  his  acquaintance,  and  the  women 
of  Jerusalem  generally ;  there  were  the  Roman 
soldiers,  there  were  the  common  Jews,  there  were 
the  rulers  and  chief  priests  and  scribes,  beholding 
as  they  thought  the  accomplishment  of  their  work. 
These  beheld  him,  standing  around  or  at  a  little 
distance  from  his  cross.  Nor  were  there  wanting 
others  who  beheld  him,  themselves  being  to  mor- 
tal eyes  invisible,  the  angels  of  God,  who  looked 
with  awe  and  adoration  upon  that  infinite  display 
of  God's  love.  They  too  are  beholding  him  now, 
crucified  as  he  is  again  daily  amongst  us. 

We  may,  if  we  will,  apply  this  in  two  ways ; 


THE   CHILDREN.  227 

we  may  apply  it  to  ourselves,  this  present  congre- 
gation, at  this  present  season,  beholding,  so  to 
speak,  the  representation  of  Christ  crucified  in 
the  services  of  this  week,  and  in  the  communion 
of  next  Sunday.  In  this  sense  it  may  be  said, 
"  The  people  stand  beholding  him."  Or  again 
we  may  apply  it  to  ourselves,  still  to  this  present 
congregation,  in  another  sense ;  as  beholding 
Christ  crucified,  not  in  the  historical  representa- 
tion of  it  given  in  the  Scriptures,  and  read  out  to 
us  in  the  Church  services ;  but  actually,  accord- 
ing to  the  language  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
in  the  sins  which  his  people  are  daily  committing ; 
'we  standing  and  looking  on  the  while,  and  regard- 
ing it  very  differently  some  of  us  from  others. 

And  lastly,  if  I  may  so  speak,  we  behold  Christ 
crucified  in  yet  another  sense :  we  each  are  guilty 
of  sin,  we  each  look  upon  ourselves  thus  sinning 
and  having  sinned  with  a  great  variety  of  feelings  ; 
our  minds  do  not  always  keep  the  same  temper ; 
in  one  and  the  same  heart,  as  various  moods  pre- 
vail, there  is  sorrow,  there  is  seriousness,  there 
is  indifference,  there  is  even  hatred  and  scorn ; 
another  aspect  of  the  words  contained  in  the  text, 
"  And  the  people  stood  beholding." 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  let  us  apply  the  words 
to  ourselves,  and  to  the  services  of  this  week. 
Already  the  sufferings  and  death  of  our  Lord  have 
been  brought  before  us  in  the  Lessons,  and  in  the 


228  THE   FIFTH   STOEMY  SUNDAY. 

Gospel  of  this  day ;  then  on  Wednesday,  when 
we  usually  assemble  in  this  place,  they  will  be 
brought  before  us  again  ;  and  yet  again  on  Fri- 
day. We  know  that  the  Gospel  for  every  day  in 
this  week  is  taken  from  the  Scriptures  which  de- 
scribe our  Lord's  death  ;  the  Epistle  and  some  of 
the  Lessons  also  more  or  less_  exclusively  relate  to 
it.  The  mere  outward  and  formal  difference  of 
this  week  cannot  escape  the  observation  of  the 
most  careless  ;  we  cannot  but  distinguish  it  from 
other  weeks.  Therefore  the  representation  of 
Christ  crucified  is  set  before  us :  we  stand  be- 
holding, more  or  less  attentively  indeed,  and  with 
more  or  less  of  interest,  but  we  all  stand  be- 
holding. 

Amongst  those  who  stood  round  his  actual 
cross,  there  were,  as  we  have  seen,  great  vari- 
eties. There  was  our  Lord's  mother,  and  his 
beloved  disciple  John,  and  there  were  the  chief 
priests  and  scribes ;  there  were  thus  the  very 
extremes  of  love  and  of  hatred.  Each  of  these 
in  anything  like  the  same  intenseness  cannot  be 
supposed  to  exist  here  :  who  of  us  loves  him  as 
his  mother  and  as  St.  John  loved  him  ?  Who  of 
us  hates  him  as  the  chief  priests  hated  him? 
But  between  these  extremes  were  there  not  still 
great  differences  ?  The  women  of  Jerusalem 
weeping  with  compassion ;  the  centurion  observ- 
ing seriously  and  fairly  ;  the  Roman  soldiers  car- 


THE   CHILDREN.  229 

ing  for  nothing  bnt  to  get  each  man  their  share 
of  his  raiment ;  the  scornful  multitude  who  said, 
"  Let  be,  let  us  see  whether  Elias  will  come  and 
save  him."  Have  we  not  amongst  ourselves  re- 
semblances at  least  of  all  these  ?  Have  we  not 
some  who  feel  that  he  suffered  for  us  ?  Have  we 
not  some  who  think  seriously  ?  have  we  not  some 
who  think  only  of  what  outward  good  things  they 
get  from  him,  food  and  clothing,  and  pleasure  of 
every  sort  ?  nay,  have  we  not  some  also  who  have 
heard  and  have  listened  and  will  not  heed,  —  who 
know  what  sin  is,  yet  sin  deliberately,  —  who  put 
conscience  aside,  and  turn  away  from  Christ's 
Spirit  in  defiance  ?  Some  of  all  these  kinds  of 
persons,  God  only  knows  how  strongly  bearing 
the  character  of  any  or  in  what  proportions  to 
one  another,  are  surely  here  this  day,  beholding 
the  Church's  yearly  representation  of  Christ  cru- 
cified. Let  each  ask  himself,  which  character  is 
his  own. 

But  one  thing  I  will  say.  Those  whom  I  com- 
pared to  the  Roman  soldiers,  to  the  soldiers  who 
were  sitting  beneath  the  cross  casting  lots  for  our 
Lord's  raiment ;  those  whom  I  fear  I  must  sup- 
pose to  be  a  large  portion  of  our  number,  who 
sit  here  to-day,  and  will  sit  here  on  Wednesday, 
and  on  Friday,  utterly  unconcerned  in  what  is 
going  on,  thinking  only  as  they  think  always,  of 
something  to  be  enjoyed,  or  some  pleasant  thing 
20 


230  THE   FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

to  be  done,  or  unpleasant  thing  to  be  avoided, — 
of  something,  in  short,  very  near  them,  in  their 
hands,  or  within  their  near  view,  something  world- 
ly, something  in  which  God  and  God's  service 
have  no  part  at  all ;  —  all  these  persons  have  by 
no  means  the  same  excuse  for  their  indifference 
which  the  Roman  soldiers  had  for  theirs.  Christ 
is  not  to  them  wholly  unknown,  as  he  was  to  those 
soldiers ;  their  teaching,  let  them  have  derived 
ever  so  little  good  from  it,  has  been  far  more  than 
ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  those  poor  Romans.  We 
have  noticed  from  time  to  time,  in  the  course  of 
our  common  studies,  how  miserable  was  the  mor- 
al education  which  could  be  gained  at  that  time 
among  the  heathens,  even  by  those  whose  circum- 
stances were  most  favorable.  What  do  we  think 
it  must  have  been  for  the  common  soldiers  of  the 
legions  ?  what  had  been  the  lessons  of  their  child- 
hood or  youth,  what  the  experience  of  their  man- 
hood ?  Not  in  vain,  depend  upon  it,  were  holy 
names  spoken  to  you  from  your  earliest  years ; 
and  you  were  told  of  God  and  Christ,  and  heav- 
en and  hell ;  and  were  taught  to  pray,  —  ay,  and 
have  prayed  sometimes,  I  doubt  not,  even  the 
very  most  careless  and  most  ignorant  of  you  all. 
Nor  yet  is  it  in  vain  that  these  same  lessons  are 
still  repeated  to  you  here  ;  let  it  be  repeated  ever 
so  imperfectly,  ever  so  scantily  ;  let  it  be  that  such 
teaching  is  but  as  one  little  drop  amidst  streams 


THE   CHILDREN.  231 

of  an  opposite  power,  still  you  cannot  get  rid  of 
the  fact  that  you  have  had  more  than  a  hea- 
then's teaching  ;  the  very  walls  of  this  building, 
meeting  your  eyes  as  they  do  every  day,  are 
themselves  a  witness ;  your  sin  in  sitting  in  per- 
fect carelessness  as  it  were  beneath  Christ's  cross, 
and  thinking  only  of  your  earthly  pleasures  and 
inconveniences,  must  be  far  greater  than  the 
sin  of  those  soldiers  who  cast  lots  for  Christ's 
raiment. 

And  now  let  us  apply  the  text  in  its  second 
sense.  We  stand  beholding  Christ  crucified,  not 
to-day  only,  nor  Wednesday,  nor  Friday  only, 
nor  beholding  him  in  the  Scripture  representation 
of  what  he  suffered  once  on  Calvary ;  but  every 
day  beholding  him  crucified  afresh,  —  I  speak 
the  language  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, — 
crucified  afresh  in  the  sins  that  are  committed 
amongst  us  ;  committed  amongst  us,  I  am  saying 
now,  not  committed  by  ourselves  individually. 
•I  am  considering  how  we  look  upon  the  sin  which 
is  done  daily  within  our  sight  and  knowledge  by 
those  amongst  whom  we  are  living.  Again,  have 
not  we  resemblances  of  those  different  sorts  of 
persons  who  stood  around  the  cross  ?  I  should 
be  very  sorry  to  think  that  no  one  beheld  Christ 
thus  crucified  with  sorrow,  that  none  so  much  as 
beheld  with  serious  attention.  Can  it  bo  really 
that  the  many  sorts  of  evil,  the  want  of  positive 


232  THE   FIFTH  STORMY   SUNDAY. 

good  being  one  of  the  very  worst  of  all,  which 
present  themselves  to  us  every  day,  should  be  to 
all  of  us  a  matter  of  absolute  indifference  ?  Con- 
sider that,  so  far  as  we  are  not  such  a  society  as 
Christ's  people  will  be  hereafter  in  heaven,  so  far 
sin  is  corrupting  us,  and  dishonoring  our  Lord. 
Of  course  I  know  that  there  are  some  things  in 
which,  without  any  fault  of  ours,  our  condition 
cannot  be  what  that  of  Christ's  people  will  be 
when  they  are  with  him.  So  far  as  bodily  pain 
affects  us,  brought  on  by  no  fault  of  ourselves  or 
others,  so  far  as  sickness  makes  us  uncomfortable, 
or  the  innocent  troubles  of  our  friends,  or  their 
being  taken  away  from  us,  so  far  I  grant  Christ's 
truest  people  on  earth  will  ever  be  different  from 
his  people  in  heaven.  But  set  aside  these  things, 
and  what  differences  remain  are  surely  differen- 
ces caused  by  sin  ;  differences  caused  by  want  of 
faith,  want  of  hope,  want  of  purity,  want  of  truth, 
want  of  meekness,  want  of  love ;  differences 
caused  by  unbelief,  by  indifference,  by  greediness >, 
by  falsehood,  by  pride,  by  hardness  and  the  love 
of  giving  pain,  by  slothfulness  and  selfishness. 
Can  it  be  that  we  see  ourselves  so  different  from 
what  Christ's  people  should  be,  and  that  not  one 
of  us  thinks  seriously  about  it,  not  one  of  us 
grieves  for  it  ?  It  is  but  too  certain  that  many 
do  not  care  about  it  in  the  least ;  nay,  it  is  to  be 
feared  that  here  we  have  really  someching  like 


THE    CHILDREN.  233 

the  very  feeling  of  the  chief  priests  and  scribes, 
who  looked  on  upon-  the  sight  of  Christ  crucified, 
and  rejoiced  at  it.  I  am  afraid  that  some  almost 
take  a  pleasure  in  the  state  of  sin  which  they  see 
around  them,  at  least  that  they  would  and  do 
oppose  and  view  with  suspicion  and  dislike  all 
attempts  to  make  it  better.  Even  to  this  hour, 
after  so  many  years'  experience,  my  astonishment 
at  this  is  as  fresh  as  ever ;  I  wonder,  and  ever 
shall  wonder,  I  hope,  not  that  there  are  some  who 
do  evil,  but  that  there  are  so  many  who  do  not 
hate  it  when  done  by  others.  I  can  understand 
our  being  over-indulgent  to  our" own  faults;  I 
can  understand  that  self-love  should  get  the  bet- 
ter of  conscience  ;  or  that,  a  great  temptation 
being  before  us,  we  should  be  found  often  to  yield 
to  it.  But  that  sin  should  not  be  hateful  when 
there  is  no  self-love  to  blind  us ;  that  evil  should 
not  be  abhorred  even  when  no  temptation  is  pres- 
ent; this  does  seem  to  me  very  wonderful  and 
very  shocking.  It  seems  to  show  an  habitual 
and  deliberate  turning  away  from  Christ,  which 
really  reminds  one  of  the  rancor  of  the  chief 
priests,  or  at  any  rate  of  those  who  said,  "  We 
will  not  have  this  man  to  reign  over  us."  It  says 
that  the  common  state  of  our  minds  is  one  of 
apostasy  ;  that  when  no  particular  temptation  is 
present,  in  cool  blood,  as  it  were,  and  constantly, 
we  look  upon  Christ  crucified  among  us,  and  we 

20* 


234  THE   FIFTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

are  absolutely  without  a  single  wish  that  it  should 
not  be  so. 

It  is  but  too  certain  that,  as  long  as  we  care 
not  to  see  Christ  crucified  by  others,  so  long  we 
shall  never  be  careful  not '  to  crucify  him  our- 
selves. This  was  the  last  point  which  I  spoke  of: 
how  differently  at  different  times  we  behold  him 
crucified  as  it  were  in  our  own  hearts  by  our  own 
sin,  sometimes,  I  trust,  being  penitent,  and  some- 
times being  serious,  but  more  commonly,  I  fear, 
being  careless,  and  sometimes  being  hard  and 
wilfully  rebellious.  Now  it  may  be  that  one  who 
hates  evil  very  sincerely  may  yet  sometimes, 
under  strong  temptation,  yield  to  it :  he  may 
grieve  to  see  Christ  crucified  by  others,  and 
yet  may  crucify  him  by  his  own  sin.  This  is 
not  hypocrisy,  but  human  weakness,  which  does 
not  bring  its  practice  fully  up  to  the  level  of  its 
principles,  even  though  it  holds  the  principles 
most  truly.  But  who  will  care  for  evil  in  him- 
self, being  tempted  to  it,  when  he  does  not  care 
for  it  in  another,  where  he  has  no  temptation  to 
make  him  tolerant  of  it  ?  Who  will  scruple  to 
commit  a  sin  himself  when  he  has  occasion,  if  he 
sees  the  sin  committed  by  others  with  entire  in- 
difference ?  Who  will  shrink  from  lying,  or  from 
any  other  sin,  in  his  own  person,  if  these  things 
give  him  no  disgust  when  he  sees  them  in  anoth- 
er ?    It  is  quite  certain  that  he  cannot  hate  them, 


THE   CHILDREN.  235 

and  not  hating  sin,  it  is  quite  certain  that  he  can- 
not love  -God. 

"The  people,"  says  the  Evangelist,  "who came 
together  to  that  sight,  beholding  the  things  which 
were  done,  smote  their  breasts  and  returned. " 
The  soldiers  were  indifferent,  the  chief  priests 
triumphant ;  but  the  general  feeling  was  sorrow ; 
when  they  had  seen  that  all  was  over,  the  mul- 
titude in  general,  who  had  stood  beholding,  smote 
their  breasts  and  returned.  We  know  not  how 
soon  the  impression  melted  away  again  from  many 
of  them  ;  but  for  the  time,  at  least,  it  was  general, 
and  with  many  we  may  believe  that  it  was  last- 
ing. 0  that  it  might  be  so  with  us,  in  either  of 
the  applications  of  the  text  which  I  have  been 
making !  that  from  our  sight  of  Christ  crucified, 
as  represented  in  this  week's  solemn  services,  or 
as  daily  and  every  week  set  forth  in  the  sin  com- 
mitted all  around  us,  or  by  ourselves,  the  gener- 
ality of  us  might  turn  away  truly  grieving !  that 
from  that  sight,  under  whatever  form  exhibited 
to  us,  we  might  derive  a  hatred  of  sin  with  all 
our  hearts  and  souls,  whenever  we  see  it  in  oth- 
ers, or  in  ourselves  !  I  do  not  say  for  an  instant 
"  hatred  of  those  in  whom  sin  is,"  for  as  we 
certainly  shall  never  hate  ourselves,  so  neither 
should  we  hate  others  in  whom  sin  may  be  man- 
ifested;  but  the  sin  itself,  whether  in  ourselves 
or  others,  we  should  hate  with  a  perfect  hatred ; 


236  THE   FIFTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

for  the  strength  of  that  hatred  of  sin  is  the  exact 
measure  of  the  strength  of  our  love  of  Christ. 
We  should  hate  it  and  make  war  upon  it  unceas- 
ingly, to  destroy  it  utterly  out  of  all  our  coasts ; 
for  this  is  the  lesson  of  the  destruction  of  the 
Canaanites  with  all  that  belonged  to  them,  —  that 
we  should  hold  no  intercourse  with  it,  make  no 
peace  with  it,  allow  it  not  the  least  harbor 
amongst  us,  that,  having  overcome  that  deadly 
enemy  which  crucified  and  crucifies  our  Lord 
continually,  we  may  turn  to  him  with  joy,  and 
share  with  him  in  the  glory  of  his  resurrection. 


I  was  very  tired  towards  night,  when  Clara 
came  and  whispered  to  me.  She  thought,  if  I  left 
the  room  a  little  while,  the  baby  would  be  quiet 
with  her,  and  she  had  made  a  little  fire  in  the 
air-tight  stove  in  my  room,  if  I  would  only  go  up 
and  rest  myself.  I  came  up  into  my  room,  and 
found  it  quiet  and  warm.  Clara  had  drawn  an 
easy  chair  up  to  the  fire,  and  a  little  table,  on 
which  she  had  placed  my  favorite  books.  It  was 
very  still  and  peaceful  here,  and  I  had  a  little 
time  for  thought.  And  I  gave  thanks.  And  I 
laid  off,  for  a  little  while,  the  responsibility  that 
hangs  above  me  so  constantly  with  regard  to  my 
children.    Surely  they  were  not  worse  than  other 


THE  CHILDREN.  287 

people's  children.  Because  I  loved  them  better, 
I  am  anxiously  conscious  of  all  their  faults,  and 
feel  myself  to  blame  for  them,  but  how  much 
there  is  in  them  to  give  me  hope  !  How  thought- 
ful and  unexpected  was  this  little  act  of  Clara's  ! 
She  is  the  gay  one  of  the  family.  From  one 
week's  end  to  the  other,  she  keeps  us  laughing 
with  her  fun,  and  seems  filled  only  with  the  joy 
of  life.  But  lately  I  have  seen  some  very  pleas- 
ing traits  in  the  midst  of  her  apparent  thought- 
lessness. There  is  a  generosity  in  all  the  little 
things  she  does,  and  a  sensibility  to  the  little 
troubles  of  others.  Indeed,  let  me  in  future  look 
to  these  encouraging  traits  in  my  children.  Of 
late,  perhaps,  I  have  been  weighed  down  too  much 
by  the  care  of  them,  not  joining  in  their  joy,  or 
growing  young  in  their  youth.  Let  me  in  future 
leave  the  care  of  them  in  the  hands  of  God,  and 
trust  that  he  has  given  them  to  me  for  a  blessing. 
And  for  my  boys !  If  Christ  shall  ask  of  them 
to  drink  of  his  cup,  and  be  baptized  with  his 
baptism,  may  I  hear  them  answer,  and  may  I 
too,  be  willing  to  hear  them  answer,  "  We  are 
able!" 


238  THE   FIFTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 


ST.  JOHN'S   DAY.* 

"  Peter,  seeing  him,  saith  to  Jesus,  Lord,  and  what  shall  this  man 
do?  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  If  I  will  that  he  tarry  till  I  come,  what  is 
that  to  thee'?  follow  thou  me." 

Lord,  and  what  shall  this  man  do  ? 

Ask'st  thou,  Christian,  for  thy  friend  ? 
If  his  love  for  Christ  be  true, 

Christ  hath  told  thee  of  his  end. 
This  is  he  whom  God  approves, 
This  is  he  whom  Jesus  loves. 

Ask  not  of  him  more  than  this  ; 

Leave  it  in  his  Saviour's  breast, 
Whether,  early  called  to  bliss, 

He  in  youth  shall  find  his  rest, 
Or  armed  in  his  station  wait 
Till  his  Lord  be  at  the  gate. 

Whether  in  his  lonely  course 

(Lonely,  not  forlorn)  he  stay, 
Or  with  love's  supporting  force 

Cheat  the  toil  and  cheer  the  way,  — 
Leave  it  all  in  His  high  hand, 
Who  doth  hearts  as  streams  command. 

Gales  from  heaven,  if  so  he  will, 

Sweeter  melodies  can  wake 
On  the  lonely  mountain  rill 

Than  the  meeting  waters  make ; 
Who  hath  the  Father  and  the  Son 
May  be  left,  but  not  alone. 

*  Keble. 


THE   CHILDREN.  239 


Sick  or  healthful,  slave  or  free, 
Wealthy  or  despised  and  poor,  — 

What  is  that  to  him  or  thee, 
So  his  love  to  Christ  endure  ? 

When  the  shore  is  won  at  last, 

Who  will  count  the  billows  past? 

Only,  since  our  souls  will  shrink 
At  the  touch  of  natural  grief, 

When  Our  earthly  loved  ones  sink, 
Send  us,  Lord,  thy  sure  relief; 

Patient  hearts,  their  pain  to  see, 

And  thy  grace,  to  follow  thee. 


THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

THE  BIBLE. 


Stars  are  poor  books,  and  oftentimes  do  miss ; 
This  book  of  stars  lights  to  eternal  bliss." 

Herbert. 


21 


THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

THE  BIBLE. 

Here  are  six  stormy  Sundays  that  we  have  had 
in  succession,  and  to-day  I  was  particularly  dis- 
appointed, that  I  could  not  go  to  church,  for  our 
friend  Mr.  R.  was  to  preach  for  us,  and  was  spend- 
ing the  Sunday  with  us.  My  friend  Anna,  who 
is  staying  with  me  for  a  few  days,  and  who  had 
depended,  too,  upon  hearing  Mr.  R.  preach,  was 
much  disappointed.  Last  night  we  looked  out 
upon  a  bright  starlight,  and  were  hoping  for  a 
pleasant  Sunday  at  last.  But  in  the  night  the 
storm  rose  ;  we  heard  the  wind  blowing  the  snow 
against  the  panes  of  glass  of  the  window,  as 
though  it  would  dash  them  through.  This  morn- 
ing we  found  the  house  more  blocked  up  than  it 
has  been  all  winter.  Mr.  R.  and  George  looked 
out  in  dismay,  and  George  early  began  his  efforts 
in  bringing  round  the  sleigh  and  the  horse,  through 
the  heavy  drifts,  from  the  stable  to  the  house  door. 
This  was  accomplished  at  last,  and  in  due  season 


244  THE  SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

before  the  hour  for  the  church  services,  that  they 
might  have  plenty  of  time  to  fight  their  way 
through  the  snow  to  church.  At  first  Anna  and 
I  insisted  that  we  would  go,  too;  but  we  were 
plainly  shown  that  we  should  be  in  the  way,  and 
nothing  but  a  burden,  and  that  George  and  the 
horse  would  have  as  much  as  they  could  do  to 
get  "  the  minister  "  to  church  in  season.  So  we 
bade  them  good  by  for  the  day,  for  they  would 
not  return  till  night.  We  watched  them  for  some 
time,  for  the  sleigh  was  overturned  three  times, 
and  I  thought  they  would  have  to  give  up  their 
efforts  to  pierce  through  the  drifts.  At  last  they 
disappeared  from  sight,  and  we  turned  away  from 
the  window,  Anna  very  despondingiy.  "I  do 
not  understand,"  she  exclaimed,  "  how  you  have 
been  able  to  survive  five  quiet,  solitary,  stormy 
Sundays  !  I  must  confess  I  should  find  it  very 
hard.  I  am  afraid  at  the  last  I  should  be  sighing 
for  my  knitting! " 

Then  Anna  went  on  to  say  she  should  find  it 
very  hard  to  read  what  were  called  "  good"  books 
all  day  long.  She  liked  the  services  at  church, 
she  liked  summer  Sundays,  when  the  quiet  and 
beauty  of  nature  suggested  a  quiet  and  beautiful 
peace  within.  But  this  succession  of  stormy 
Sundays,  —  was  not  it  very  dreary  ? 

I  told  her  I  had  found  it  difficult  to  occupy  the 
time  heartily  and  happily.     But  I  thought  some 


THE   BIBLE.  245 

of  her  complaints  should  be  charged  to  a  retired 
life,  to  having  my  house  so  far  away  from  other 
people,  rather  than  to  the  fact  of  its  being  Sun- 
day. If  I  had  five  stormy  weeks  that  kept  me 
away  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  I  should  find 
my  week-day  occupations,  however  varied  they 
might  be,  grow  monotonous  and  dreary  without 
the  zest  of  interruption.  But  I  should  not  like 
to  say  that  my  resources  were  not  equal  to  five 
separate,  uninterrupted  Sundays,  —  my  resources 
of  a  library  and  my  own  thoughts,  —  that  I  should 
be  reduced  to  knitting  or  sewing,  which  I  am  not 
fond  of  doing  week  days,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
am  glad  to  be  relieved  from. 

Anna  confessed  that  the  novelty  of  sewing  on 
Sunday  might  give  it  a  charm  that  it  did  not  have 
to  her  on  other  days.  "  Perhaps,"  said  she,  "  it 
is  the  sighing  after  a  forbidden  fruit,  sour  though 
the  fruit  may  be."  Then  she  asked  how  much  I 
read  of  the  Old  Testament  on  such  days,  and  we 
fell  to  talking  of  how  much  or  how  little  it  is  read 
now-a-days.  Anna  said  she  had  found  very  little 
interest  in  the  Old  Testament ;  that  it  seemed  to 
her  to  present  a  picture  of  a  God  such  as  she 
could  not  comprehend,  —  cruel  and  unjust ;  that 
the  lives  that  were  held  up  to  be  the  lives  of  good 
men  were  far  from  being  immaculate  and  pure ; 
that  she  could  not  look  upon  it  as  a  book  to  be 
read  every  day  as  a  lesson  for  her  own  daily  life, 
21* 


246       THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

because,  at  best,  it  was  a  history  of  people  who 
lived  long  ago,  and  under  less  light  than  we  are 
living  in  now. 

I  agreed  with  her  somewhat  in  this  last,  but  I 
asked  her  if  she  had  come  at  this  impression 
through  her  own  reading  of  the  Old  Testament. 
She  said  that  she  had  not ;  that  indeed  she  had 
read  the  Old  Testament  very  little.  She  remem- 
bered hearing  it  read  aloud  in  her  childhood,  and 
liking  the  history  of  Joseph  ;  the  greater  part  of 
what  she  had  read  then,  had  left  little  impression 
upon  her.  But  lately  she  had  read  a  great  many 
of  the  books  that  discussed  the  inspiration  of  the 
Bible,  and  she  more  and  more  wondered  that  it 
should  be  bound  up  with  the  life  of  Christ,  and 
she  found  it  impossible  to  waken  any  interest 
in  it. 

"  There  are  the  Psalms,"  I  said ;  "  certainly 
they  contain  very  beautiful  poetry." 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  But  in  the  midst  of  the 
Psalms,  in  the  midst  of  the  most  beautiful  poetry, 
are  the  prayers  of  David  against  his  enemies, 
that  seem  to  me  savage  and  cruel." 

"  The  prayers  may  be  savage  and  cruel,"  I 
said,  "  especially  to  us,  who  are  taught  to  forgive 
our  enemies.  Yet  perhaps  many  in  our  times 
might  not  spare  the  lives  of  their  enemies,  as 
David  spared  the  life  of  his  greatest  enemy  when 
he  was  thrown  into  his  hands,  as  you  remember." 


THE   BIBLE.  247 

"  No,  I  don't  remember,"  Anna  said  ;  "  and 
my  impression  of  the  Psalms  is  vague,  as  I  heard 
them  read  at  a  school,  where  we  read  on,  day 
after  day,  in  a  mechanical  way,  from  the  Old 
Testament.  *  Strong  bulls  of  Bashan  have  beset 
me  round.'  I  remember  that  verse  struck  me 
once.  Of  what  sort  of  use  could  that  verse  be 
to  me  ? " 

"I  remember,"  I  said,  "that  it  is  from  a  Psalm 
that  always  impressed  me  very  much,  because  the 
first  words  of  it  are  the  words  with  which  Christ 
cried  out  in  agony  upon  the  cross,  i  My  God,  my 
God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ? '  I  have  often 
read  the  rest  of  the  Psalm,  wondering  if  at  that 
moment  there  might  not  have  presented  itself  to 
Jesus  some  of  the  words  that  follow :  l  Our  fa- 
thers trusted  in  thee,  they  trusted,  and  thou 
didst  deliver  them;  they  cried  unto  thee,  and 
were  delivered,  they  trusted  in  thee,  and  were 
not  confounded.  But  I  am  a  worm,  and  no  man, 
a  reproach  of  men,  and  despised  of  the  people. 
All  they  that  see  me  laugh  me  to  scorn ;  they 
shoot  out  the  lip,  they  shake  the  head,  saying,  He 
trusted  on  the  Lord  that  he  would  deliver  him ; 
let  him  deliver  him,  seeing  that  he  delighteth  in 

him They  part  my  garments  among  them, 

and  cast  lots  upon  my  vesture.  But  be  not  thou 
far  from  me,  0  Lord !  0  my  strength,  haste  thee 
to  help  me  ! '     It  seems  so  natural  that  the  scene 


248  JTHE   SIXTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

before  him  should  have  called  to  him  words  that 
seemed  to  describe  it.  And  this  is  a  way  that 
the  Old  Testament  is  to  me  connected  with  the 
life  of  Christ ;  because,  from  all  his  teachings, 
we  can  see  that  he  learnt  something  himself  from 
6  the  Scriptures.' " 

"If  only,"  said  Anna,  "  we  had  not  been  made 
to  read  the  Old  Testament  in  such  a  mechanical 
way." 

I  thought  perhaps  I  had  been  very  fortunate  in 
that  way.  I  reminded  Anna  of  the  interest  we 
had  felt  in  Mrs.  Child's  book,  of  the  Religious 
Ideas  of  Different  Nations. 

"  Yes,"  said  Anna,  "  I  was  glad  to  read  that ; 
it  told  me  a  great  deal  I  did  not  know.  It  is 
very  curious  to  read  the  early  history  of  those 
old  nations." 

"  I  have  felt  that  interest  too,"  I  said.  "  It 
seemed  as  if  one  might  learn  something  of  the 
nature  of  religion  by  tracing  it  up  to  its  earliest 
sources,  and  I  had  always  seized  hold  of  such 
histories  with  a  particular  eagerness.  Often  I 
had  begun  to  read  carefully  of  the  old  Hindoo 
faith.  But  in  the  history  of  this,  and  in  other 
similar  histories,  I  had  met  with  one  great  diffi- 
culty. I  was  sorry  to  say  they  had  grown  dull. 
After  a  while,  Vishnu  and  Siva,  Devi  and  Krish- 
na, Brahmin  and  Buddhist,  even  mingle  them- 
selves in  my  mind.     The  account  interests  me 


THE  BIBLE.  249 

awhile  for  a  study,  in  some  of  its  singular  coin- 
cidences, but  it  does  not  keep  its  hold  on  me,  and 
I  never  get  beyond  a  certain  point  with  it.  I  can 
study  it  for  a  while,  but  it  does  not  leave  any 
powerful  impression  upon  my  mind.  Now,  the 
history  of  the  Hebrew  religion,  as  told  in  the  Old 
Testament,  affects  me  very  differently.  That  is 
represented  as  it  existed  in  the  lives  of  men  and 
women.  We  pass  over  the  long  account  of  the 
laws  and  their  details,  by  which  they  were  com- 
manded to  live,  to  read  how  far  they  were  able 
to  preserve  these  laws  in  their  hearts  and  their 
lives.  Yery  full  of  faults  were  these  lives,  full 
of  the  sins  of  their  times  and  of  their  own  sins, 
but  they  wonderfully  preserve  in  them  the  belief 
in  the  one  God.  This  belief,  alas !  failed  often 
to  control  their  lives,  as  we  allow  our  Christian 
faith  to  fail  us  in  our  daily  duties,  because  we 
make  it  a  thing  apart  from  ourselves,  —  a  form, 
and  not  a  life.  David  offers  a  heart-felt  prayer 
to  God,  forgets  God  when  the  hour  of  temptation 
comes,  and  then  again  pours  out  a  strain  of  re- 
morseful penitence  for  his  sin.  We  look  down 
upon  this,  as  we  shall  some  day  look  back  upon 
the  course  of  our  own  lives,  as  last  summer  we 
looked  down  from  the  high  mountain  on  the  hills 
and  valleys  below.  We  saw  the  little  lake,  lying 
far  below  us  ;  above  it  rose  the  little  cloud  that 
had  formed  itself  from  its  vapors  ;  the  cloud  lay 


250  THE   SIXTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

far  below  us  too,  and  at  a  distance,  on  the  green 
fields  by  the  side  of  the  lake,  lay  the  shadow  of 
its  cloud.  We  see  the  purity,  the  sin  that  fol- 
lowed, and  then  the  shadow  of  the  sin,  in*  its 
remorse." 

On  the  whole,  Anna  and  I  agreed  very  nearly 
in  our  opinion  of  the  Old  Testament.  We  thought 
it  far  more  imposing,  not  considered  as  a  verbal 
inspiration  of  God,  but  as  an  account  of  man's 
idea  of  him,  the  human  history  of  God's  revela- 
tion to  man.  And  it  is  to  me  more  valuable,  as 
presenting  the  history  of  the  nation  from  which 
Christ  came  into  the  world,  and  thus  forming  a 
necessary  introduction  to  his  life.  The  first 
chapters  of  Matthew  and  Luke  are  taken  up  with 
the  genealogy  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  though  a  long 
list  of  names  were  necessary  to  found  or  exalt 
his  claims.  For  us  who  look  upon  the  bright 
light  that  comes  down  through  the  eighteen  hun- 
dred years  from  him,  this  light  illumines  the  his- 
tory behind,  and  gives  it  some  of  his  glory.  As 
in  the  pictures  of  the  Nativity,  the  light  from  the 
child  streams  upon  the  wise  men  just  leaving  the 
background,  and  upon  the  shepherds  round  the 
manger. 

To  me  the  life  of  David  loses  very  much  of  its 
interest  after  he  becomes  a  king,  —  prosperity  is 
a  heavier  temptation  than  his  adversity.  And 
throughout  the  Old  Testament  there  must  needs 


THE   BIBLE.  251 

be  passages  of  unequal  interest,  details  of  forms 
of  customs  that  have  long  ago  lost  their  vitality, 
lists  of  the  names  of  inefficient  kings  that  forgot 
their  God.  But  these  indeed  form  but  a  small 
part  of  the  whole  history.  For  our  own  personal 
advancement  in  religion,  to  help  us  in  our  daily 
trials  and  temptations,  we  may  not  find  assistance 
in  the  lives  of  those  who  saw  in  God  a  stern  and 
severe  judge.  Yet  in  their  aspirations  we  find  a 
common  bond  of  sympathy.  Dante  gives  them  a 
place  in  Paradise  as  "  Christians  about  to  be," 
and  perhaps  we  can  trace  in  them  a  faith  in 
something  purer  than  they  found  in  their  own 
lives,  that  gives  a  fire  to  their  devotion.  Cer- 
tainly some  of  the  prayers  and  utterances  of  the 
Psalms  and  the  Prophecies  have  something  in 
them  which  warms  us  who  have  strayed  away 
from-  Christ. 

At  any  rate,  we  need  not  be  more  prejudiced 
against  it  by  the  superstitious  and  mechanical 
way  in  which  it  has  been  sometimes  regarded, 
than  we  are  influenced  by  the  devotional  feeling 
which  it  has  awakened  in  many  others.  How- 
ever it  has  been  regarded  by  others,  we  ought,  as 
we  ought  from  all  other  things,  to  create  our  own 
life,  not  bound,  not  prejudiced  by  others,  yet  will- 
ing to  receive  what  light  they  will  give. 

We  may  speculate  as  we  will  upon  the  author- 
ity of  the  Old  Testament,  study  its  character  and 


252  THE    SIXTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

its  teachings  according  to  the  bent  of  our  intellect- 
ual constitution ;  speculations  on  this  and  other 
subjects  akin  to  it  may  serve  as  food  and  occu- 
pation for  the  starving  and  waste  hours  of  our 
mind.  For  our  guidance  in  our  every-day  lives 
we  need  the  inspiration  that  was  in  the  life  of 
Christ ;  through  him  can  we  come  to  the  Father, 
the  Father  who  was  imperfectly  conceived  in  the 
Hebrew  faith. 

Christ  found  encouragement  in  the  lives  of  the 
men  whom  his  nation  revered.  The  prophets, 
whose  words  he  heard  in  the  humble  synagogue 
of  his  home,  were  familiar  to  him  in  his  childish 
days.  He  lingered  in  the  temple  to  hear  and 
learn  of  them,  when  his  life  was  opening  upon 
him.  He  used  their  words  when  the  hour  of 
temptation  came,  to  put  back  the  tempter  from 
his  soul.  And  already  he  must  have  become 
intimate  with  their  spirits,  before  Moses  and 
Elias  appeared  to  him  on  the  mountain  of  the 
transfiguration. 

We  read,  Anna  and  I,  two  sermons  by  F.  D. 
Maurice.  He  has  brought  out  from  the  passages 
of  the  Old  Testament,  which  he  read  as  fixed 
"  lessons  of  the  day,"  lessons  which  he  has  made 
appropriate  to  the  present  day,  and  has  given  a 
vitality  to  what  might  become  a  dead  form. 


THE   BIBLE.  253 

DAVID  THE  SHEPHERD  AND    THE    OUTLAW. 

"  He  chose  David  also  his  servant,  and  took  him  away  from  the 
sheepfolds ;  as  he  was  following  the  ewes  great  with  young  ones,  He 
took  him,  that  he  might  feed  Jacob  his  people,  and  Israel  his  inher- 
itance." —  Psalm  lxxviii.  70,  Tl. 

Objectors  to  the  history  of  the  Old  Testament 
have  dwelt  much  upon  the  title,  "  the  man  after 
God's  own  heart,"  which  is  given  so  continually 
to  David.  "  Is  he  not,"  they  have  said,  "  direct- 
ly charged  with  adultery  and  murder,  —  murder 
of  a  very  base  kind  and  for  the  basest  purpose  ? 
Are  there  not  passages  in  his  life  recorded  with- 
out condemnation,  which  are  indefensible  upon 
any  moral  principles  which  we  acknowledge  ? 
Do  not  some  of  his  worst  acts  belong  to  his  later 
years,  when  one  would  have  expected  to  see  his 
passions  subdued,  his  higher  qualities  matured 
and  perfected  ?  Is  this  the  man  whom  a  right- 
eous God  would  declare  to  be  the  object  of  his 
especial  complacency  ?  What  must  we  think  of 
the  book  which  teaches  us  to  believe  that  he  was 
thus  regarded  ?  What  impressions  must  it  leave 
upon  us  of  the  Divine  character,  what  possible 
help  can  it  afford  us  in  forming  our  own  ?  " 

Divines  have  very  often  met  these  questions 
with  an  answer  of  this  kind.  "  The  epithet 
which  you  complain  of,"  they  have  said,  "  be- 
longs to  David,  not  personally,  but  officially. 
22 


254      THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

He  was  called  out  by  God  to  restore  the  kingdom 
which  Saul  had  destroyed,  to  subdue  the  Philis- 
tines and  the  surrounding  nations,  to  raise  up  a 
family  of  kings  of  the  tribe  of  Judah.  These 
purposes  he  accomplished.  He  did  the  work 
which  he  was  appointed  to  do.  He  fulfilled  God's 
counsel.  So  far  he  was  a  man  after  God's  own 
heart.  His  moral  delinquencies  are  recorded, 
that  we  may  know  where  the  Divine  approbation 
stops  short." 

I  believe  that  this  explanation  never  satisfied 
the  minds  of  those  who  availed  themselves  of  it. 
I  am  sure  that  it  never  satisfied  the  mind  of  any 
simple  or  devout  reader.  The  notion  of  official 
virtue  belongs  to  a  very  low  code  of  ethics  indeed. 
In  a  very  artificial  state  of  society  we  sometimes 
separate  the  workman  from  the  work ;  we  speak 
of  that  as  done  faithfully  and  honestly,  while  he 
is  unfaithful  and  dishonest.  The  possibility  of 
such  a  separation  undoubtedly  exists  ;  but  we 
all  know  that  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  and  most 
frightful  anomalies  that  it  should  exist ;  we  all 
long  for  the  time  when  it  shall  exist  no  longer. 
Statesmen  possessing  no  high-flown  morality, 
trained  in  the  school  of  party  politics,  have  re- 
jected the  vulgar  distinction  between  the  bad 
man  and  the  bad  king,  as  inconsistent  with  ex- 
perience. Lying,  the  great  sin  of  the  individual, 
has  been  proved  to  be  the  fatal  sin  of  the  mon- 


THE   BIBLE.  255 

arch,  that  which  makes  all  aptitude  for  business, 
all  clearness  of  perception,  all  skill  in  devising 
theories,  even  higher  qualities  than  these,  practi- 
cally inefficient,  or  positively  mischievous.  How 
then  can  a  believer  in  the  Bible  transfer  to  it  a 
habit  of  thinking  which  we  are  trying  to  banish 
from  common  life?  How  can  he  imagine  that 
the  book  which  he  holds  to  be  essentially  true, 
should  sanction  and  consecrate  one  of  our  most 
pernicious  falsehoods  ? 

A  very  little  reflection  upon  the  words  them- 
selves, still  more  a  slight  study  of  the  history  of 
David,  should  surely  have  prevented  any  man 
from  resorting  to  this  kind  of  apology.  "  God," 
we  hear  again  and  again  in  Scripture,  "  trieth 
the  reins."  That  general  principle  is  applied 
expressly  to  the  case  of  David.  The  Lord  said 
to  Samuel,  when  he  was  about  to  anoint  the  el- 
dest son  of  Jesse,  "  Man  looketh  on  the  outward 
appearance  ;  but  the  Lord  looketh  on  the  heart." 
What  can  be  so  direct  a  contradiction  of  this 
statement,  as  the  notion  that  David  was  after 
God's  own  heart,  because  he  did  certain  outward 
acts  which  were  in  conformity  with  the  Divine 
mind  and  pleasure  ?  And  surely  if  there  is  a 
man  in  the  sacred  history  or  in  any  history  whom 
it  is  impossible  to  think  of  merely  as  an  official 
actor,  that  man  is  the  shepherd-boy  who  became 
king  of  Israel.     There  is   no   one  who  has   so 


256  THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

marked  a  personality,  no  one  with  whose  inward 
life  and  struggles  we  are  so  well  acquainted. 
Whatever  he  is,  we  feel  that  his  whole  mind  and 
will  are  thrown  into  the  words  which  he  speaks 
and  the  deeds  which  he  does.  And  in  no  life  are 
the  king  and  the  man  so  entirely  and  insepara- 
bly blended.  In  his  highest  raptures,  in  the  ut- 
terances of  his  greatest  anguish,  we  are  remind- 
ed continually  that  he  is  to  become  a  king,  or 
that  he  is  one.  On  the  other  hand,  his  sins  are 
not  treated  as  what  we  call,  in  our  artificial  no- 
menclature, private  sins  ;  they  are  the  sins  of  a 
king,  affecting  multitudes  besides  himself.  As 
such  they  are  denounced,  as  such  they  are  pun- 
ished. 

I  think  it  must  have  been  the  obviousness  of 
this  fact  in  the  Scriptural  records,  which  misled 
the  commentators  into  this  dangerous  method  of 
justifying  them.  They  saw  that  David  was  spo- 
ken of  as  intended  by  God  for  a  king,  while  he 
was  a  shepherd-boy.  They  perceived  that  all  his 
various  and  romantic  adventures  were  preparing 
him  for  a  throne  ;  they  were  struck  with  the  con- 
sciousness, in  his  own  mind,  of  a  destiny  and  a 
work  which  were  to  be  accomplished.  They 
could  not  but  be  aware,  that  everything  which 
was  greatest,  best,  purest,  in  him,  had  reference 
to  a  divine  mission  which  he  was  to  execute  for 
his  country.     They  could  not  be  mistaken  that 


THE   BIBLE.  257 

ho  was  educated  for  a  special  office.  Unhappily 
they  forgot  to  ask  themselves  what  the  education 
for  such  an  office  implied,  what  we  are  actually 
told  about  it  in  the  Bible.  Had  they  followed 
the  guidance  of  the  history  for  which  they  were 
trying  to  make  ingenious  excuses,  they  might 
have  found  how  trnly  the  education  of  the  divine 
king  was  the  education  of  a  man ;  they  might  have 
come  to  understand  what  it  was  in  the  old  days 
to  be  a  man  after  God's  own  heart,  what  it  is  in 
our  days  ;  they  might  have  attained  through  that 
knowledge  to  a  far  deeper  sense  of  the  nature 
and  cause  of  David's  sins,  to  a  more  earnest  re- 
pentance for  their  own.  Some  of  these  blessings 
may,  T  hope,  come  to  us,  my  brethren,  while  we 
seek  to  understand  the  nature  of  David's  disci- 
pline. I  shall  confine  myself  this  afternoon  to 
the  years  which  he  passed  before  the  death  of 
Saul,  the  period  which  is  indicated  by  the  words 
of  the  text.  The  time  of  his  actual  government, 
described  in  the  following  sentence,  "  So  he  fed 
them  with  a  faithful  and  true  heart,  and  ruled 
them  prudently  with  all  his  power,"  I  reserve  for 
another  occasion. 

When  I  speak  of  David  as  having  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  divine  calling  or  mission  in  every 
period  of  his  life,  I  do  not  mean  that  he  was 
haunted  in  the  sheepfolds  with  dreams  of  some 
great  honor  to  come  upon  him  hereafter.     Those 

22* 


258  THE   SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

to  whom  such  dreams  come,  are  commonly  im- 
patient of  the  mean  position  in  which  they  find 
themselves.  What  I  apprehend  he  felt  was,  that 
he  had  a  call  to  the  work  in  which  he  was  then 
engaged.  He  must  have  believed  that  the  God 
of  his  fathers,  He  and  no  other,  had  appointed 
him  to  take  care  of  the  few  sheep  in  the  wilder- 
ness which  Jesse  had  trusted  him  with.  A  strange 
thought,  that  the  tasks  which  fell  to  him  because 
he  was  the  youngest  son  of  the  house,  could  be 
tasks  in  which  the  Most  High  God,  who  filled 
heaven  and  earth,  interested  himself.  But  it 
was  the  thought  which  made  David's  life  tolera- 
ble to  him,  the  only  one  which  could  have  ena- 
bled him  to  work  without  becoming  the  slave  of 
his  work.  The  shepherd's  life  brought  him  into 
wide,  open  plains,  to  hill-sides  that  were  lonely 
by  day  as  well  as  night.  How  awful  to  feel  him- 
self there,  him  the  poor  shepherd,  an  atom  amidst 
the  infinity  of  nature !  But  an  atom  which 
breathed,  which  thought,  which,  in  the  depth  of 
its  nothingness,  felt  that  it  was  higher  and  more 
wonderful  than  the  universe,  which  was  able, 
and  sometimes  seemed  ready,  to  crush  it.  Shep- 
herd-boy, what  art  thou  ?  Child  of  the  covenant, 
what  art  thou  ?  Fearful  questions,  to  which  the 
hills  and  skies  could  give  no  answer.  But  the 
boy  pursued  his  task.  He  led  the  sheep  to  their 
pastures,  he  took  them  to  the  streams,  he  followed 


THE   BIBLE.  259 

them  into  thickets  and  ravines  where  they  had 
lost  themselves.  These  poor,  silly  creatures  were 
worthy  of  David's  diligence.  And  then  the  an- 
swer came,  "  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd  ;  I  shall 
not  want.  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green 
pastures.  He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters. 
He  leadeth  me  in  the  paths  of  righteousness. 
Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for  Thou 
art  with  me.  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staff,  they 
strengthen  me."  What  a  revelation  to  the  soul 
of  a  youth !  A  Guide  near  him,  with  him,  at 
every  moment,  —  as  actual  a  guide  as  he  was  to 
the  sheep  ;  a  guide  who  must  watch  over  a  mul- 
titude of  separate  souls,  as  he  watched  over  each 
separate  sheep,  who  must  care  to  bind  them  to- 
gether in  one,  as  he  cared  to  bring  the  sheep  into 
the  same  fold ! 

Let  us  not  suppose  for  an  instant  that  David, 
as  he  practised  these  duties  and  meditated  upon 
them,  gained  some  fine  metaphors  respecting  the 
relations  of  faithful  men  to  their  Creator,  which 
afterwards  served  to  make  him  the  poet  of  Israel. 
These  thoughts  and  the  shepherd  life  did  bring 
forth  that  divine  poetry,  just  because  they  were 
so  intensely  real,  and  because  it  was  so  intensely 
real.  They  sprung  out  of  intense  anxieties  re- 
specting himself.  What  had  such  anxieties  to 
do   with  metaphors  ?     His   thoughts   associated 


260       THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

themselves  with  the  humblest  toils.  What  had 
they  to  do  with  metaphors  ?  His  meditations 
were  upon  the  I  AM,  upon  Him  before  whom 
Moses  hid  his  face,  who  spoke  in  thunders  upon 
Sinai.  How  dared  he  make  Him  a  subject  for 
metaphors  ?  When  God  taught  David  to  think 
of  Him  as  a  shepherd,  He  took  away  that  cold 
cloud-drapery  with  which  we  are  wont  to  invest 
Him;  He  brought  him  into  contact  with  His 
actual  presence  and  government.  And  do  not 
fancy  that,  because  this  apprehension  was  direct 
and  personal,  it  was  narrow  and  local.  Then, 
when  he  could  think  of  God  as  one  nigh  and  not 
afar  off;  then,  when  he  could  believe  that  He 
cared  for  him  and  cared  for  each  of  his  brethren ; 
then  he  could  look  up  into  the  open  sky  with 
wonder,  but  without  trembling,  and  say,  "  When 
I  behold  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy  hands, 
the  moon  and  the  stars  which  thou  hast  ordained ; 
Lord,  whatsis  man  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him, 
and  the  son  of  man  that  thou  visitest  him  ? 
Thou  hast  made  him  a  little  lower  than  the  an- 
gels, thou  hast  crowned  him  with  glory  and  hon- 
or. Thou  madest  him  to  have  dominion  over 
the  works  of  thy  hands,  —  all  sheep  and  oxen, 
yea,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field.  0  Lord,  our 
Lord,  how  excellent  is  thy  name  in  all  the  earth ! " 
Then  first  all  nature  could  sympathize  with  him, 
could  call  forth  instead  of  crushing  the  energies 


THE  BIBLE.  261 

of  his  own  heart.  For  the  heavens,  as  they  shone 
clear  and  bright  before  him  after  a  long  night- 
watching,  declared  the  glory  of  the  God  who  was 
his  shepherd  ;  the  firmament  showed  His  handi- 
work. Day  unto  day,  and  night  unto  night, 
uttered  speech  and  showed  knowledge.  The  sun 
came  out  of  his  bridal  chamber,  he  went  forth  as 
a  giant  rejoicing  to  run  his  race,  carrying  a 
message  to  all  nations  concerning  One  whose  law 
converted  the  soul  of  man,  whose  statutes  made 
wise  the  simple. 

This  was  a  hidden  education,  the  education  of 
a  young  man's  heart.  But  it  was  cultivating 
the  seeds  which  were  to  bring  forth  fruits  in 
manly  acts.  Here  we  are  told,  in  David's  words, 
of  some  of  the  earliest  of  those  fruits.  "  Thy 
servant  kept  his  father's  sheep,  and  there  came  a 
lion  and  a  bear  and  took  a  lamb  out  of  the  flock. 
And  I  went  out  after  him  and  smote  him  and  de- 
livered it  out  of  his  mouth.  And  wljen  he  arose 
against  me,  I  caught  him  by  the  beard  and  slew 
him."  David  was  learning  the  secret  of  invis- 
ible strength,  what  it  is,  and  where  and  how  it 
works.  So  there  grew  in  him  a  scorn  of  that 
which  lies  in  bulk  and  looks  terrible  to  the  eye. 
If  the  bear  and  the  lion  came  out  against  one  of 
his  flock,  it  was  his  business  to  encounter  them. 
And  seeing  that  he  was  a  man,  made  in  God's 
image,  made  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  the 


262  THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

child  of  God's  covenant,  he  could  use  the  do- 
minion that  God  had  given  to  his  race.  The 
strength  was  not  his.  In  that  first  battle,  as  in 
every  one  he  was  to  fight  hereafter,  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  was  with  him,  the  God  of  Jacob  was  his 
helper. 

The  story  tells  us  that  there  came  to  the  house 
of  Jesse  an  old  man,  whom  all  knew  to  be  a 
prophet ;  that  he  came  upon  a  strange  errand, 
which  he  scarcely  understood  himself, — to  anoint 
one  of  the  sons  of  that  family ;  that  the  eldest 
passed  before  him,  and  that  the  prophet  was 
struck  by  his  look  and  stature,  and  would  have 
poured  the  oil  on  his  head ;  that  he  was  told 
that  the  Lord  did  not  look  on  the  outward  ap- 
pearance, but  tried  the  heart ;  that  the  other 
sons  all  passed  by  ;  that  one  was  missing  (he  be- 
ing the  youngest,  and  with  the  sheep)  ;  that  when 
this  youth,  ruddy  and  fair  to  look  upon,  came  in, 
Samuel  was  ]pidden  to  rise  and  anoint  him. 

Here  was  the  sign  that  all  the  inward  disci- 
pline and  preparation  of  David  had  an  object, 
another  object  than  merely  to  make  him  a  faith- 
ful keeper  of  sheep,  or  even  a  wise  and  righteous 
man.  But  a  divine  sign  is  not  a  mere  ceremony. 
It  would  be  deceitful  and  insincere  if  there  were 
not  a  present  blessing  denoted  by  it,  the  commu- 
nication of  an  actual  power  to  fit  the  man  for 
tasks  to  which  he  has  not  hitherto  been  appoint- 


THE  BIBLE.  263 

ed.  From  that  day  forward,  we  are  told,  the 
Spirit  of  God  came  upon  David.  There  was  a 
power  within  him  stirring  him  to  thoughts  and 
acts  which  connected  him  directly  with  Israelites, 
with  human  beings.  Yet  with  this  new  calling, 
with  the  consciousness  of  this  new  power,  he  still 
returned  to  his  old  work.  It  was  his  till  some 
clear  summons  drew  him  from  it.  It  had  not 
lost  its  sacredness,  it  could  still  impart  wisdom 
to  one  who  sought  wisdom.  There  is  a  time  in 
men's  lives,  before  they  enter  upon  some  great 
work  to  which  they  have  been  consecrated,  a  time 
when  they  are  permitted  to  look  back  upon  the 
years  which  they  have  already  past,  to  see  them 
no  longer  as  fragments,  but  as  linked  together, 
as  having  a  divine  purpose  running  through  them 
which  makes  even  their  incoherences  and  dis- 
cords intelligible.  In  such  a  time  of  retrospec- 
tion, when  the  future  is  seen  mirrored  in  the  past, 
David  may  have  found  his  harp  muck  more  than 
the  mere  solace  of  lonely  hours,  the  mere  response 
to  his  inward  sorrows  and  thanksgivings.  He 
may  have  begun  to  know  that  he  was  speaking 
for  other  men  as  well  as  for  himself ;  that  there 
were  close  and  intimate  fibres  uniting  men  ut- 
terly unlike  and  separated  by  tracts  of  time  and 
space  ;  that  there  is  some  mysterious  source  of 
these  sympathies,  some  living  Centre  who  holds 
together  the  different  portions  of  each  man's  life, 


2G4  THE   SIXTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

and  in  whom  there  is  a  general  human  life,  of 
which  all  may  partake.  The  Spirit  of  God  which 
had  taken  possession  of  David  may  have  been 
teaching  him  these  lessons  and  inspiring  the  song 
which  was  the  utterance  of  them,  before  he  was 
prepared  to  come  forth  as  the  actual  deliverer. 
And  that  Spirit  will  assuredly  have  been  prepar- 
ing him  for  his  after  conflicts,  by  making  him 
feel  that  he  had,  even  then,  enemies  most  fierce 
to  struggle  with,  subjects  most  turbulent  to  sub- 
due. The  invisible  God  docs  not  make  known 
to  man  that  he  is  his  Shepherd,  without  making 
known  to  him  also  that  there  are  invisible  pow-. 
ers  more  fearful  than  bears  and  lions,  which 
would  tear  his  flock  asunder,  which  would  bring 
each  separate  sheep  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death.  It  may  be  true  that  the  Psalms  of 
David  which  speak  most  of  enemies  belong  to  a 
later  period  than  this,  when  he  was  wrestling 
with  flesh  and  blood ;  but  those  Psalms  would 
not  have  been  what  they  are,  they  would  not 
have  expressed  the  fears  and  confidence  of  suf- 
fering people  in  all  times,  if  the  writer  of  them 
had  not  been  trained  to  perceive  what  are  the 
real  and  universal  foes  of  God's  creatures,  before 
he  had  to  engage  with  those  who  were  torment- 
ing him  and  his  people. 

The  passage  of  the  Book  of  Samuel  which  de- 
scribes the  battle  of  David  with  Goliath,  is  called 


THE   BIBLE.  265 

by  somo  of  the  wise  men  in  our  day  a  fragment 
from  the  heroic  legends  of  the  Hebrew  people. 
I  suppose  this  phraseology  conveys  some  new  and 
striking  impression  to  the  minds  of  those  who 
use  it,  or  it  could  not  have  become  so  popular  as 
it  is,  here  and  elsewhere.  I  confess  the  old  child- 
ish notion  of  a  battle  between  a  man  with  shield 
and  buckler,  and  greaves  of  brass,  and  a  youth 
with  a  ruddy  countenance  who  went  forth  with 
his  sling  and  stone  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  God 
of  Israel,  gives  me  a  sense  of  reality,  which  I  miss 
altogether  in  the  modern  substitute  for  it.  Why 
the  story  should  be  looked  upon  as  an  interpolat- 
ed fragment  I  cannot  conceive.  It  is  entirely 
in  the  spirit  of  all  that  goes  before  and  of  all  that 
follows.  David  no  doubt  became  a  hero  in  the 
eyes  of  the  men  and  the  virgins  of  Israel.  But 
nothing  is  said  by  the  historian  to  make  us  think 
him  a  hero.  He  comes  down  with  food  and  a 
message  from  his  father  to  his  brothers  ;  he  hears 
from  them  only  scornful  words  about  the  sheep 
he  has  left  in  the  wilderness ;  Saul  smiles  at  his 
boldness  in  thinking  he  can  meet  the  Philistines  ; 
Goliath  laughs  at  him,  and  curses  him  by  his 
gods.  Everything  is  said  to  make  us  feel  the 
feebleness  of  the  Israelitish  champion ;  every- 
thing to  remind  us  that  the  nation  of  Israel  was 
the  witness  for  the  nothingness  of  man  in  himself, 
for  the  might  of  man  when  he  knows  that  he  is 

23 


266  THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

nothing,  and  puts  his  trust  in  the  living  God. 
We  may  write  the  Bible  again  ;  but  as  long  as  it 
remains  what  it  is,  this  must  be  the  sense  of  it. 
And  this  is  the  sense  which  human  beings  want 
now  as  in  the  times  of  old.  We  want  to  be  re- 
minded, as  much  in  the  age  of  all  mechanical 
inventions  and  triumphs  as  in  the  age  of  great- 
est barbarism,  that  the  shield  and  the  helmet, 
and  the  greaves  of  brass,  do  not  constitute 
strength ;  that  the  sling  and  the  stone  in  the 
hand  of  one  who  believes  in  invisible  power,  are 
ever  the  symbols  and  pledges  of  victory.  If  to 
disbelieve  this  is  to  cast  off  Hebrew  old  clothes, 
it  is  also  to  put  on  the  most  vulgar,  worn-out 
garments  of  tyranny  and  superstition  ;  it  is  to  fall 
down  and  worship  brute  force,  to  declare  that  to 
be  the  Lord.  How  soon  we  may  come  through 
our  refinements,  our  civilization,  our  mock  hero- 
worship,  to  that  last  and  most  shameful  prostra- 
tion of  the  human  spirit,  God  only  knows.  But 
He  does  know.  And  because  He  lives  and  is  true, 
He  will  make  it  manifest  in  his  own  due  time, 
that  the  law  of  his  universe  is  not  changed,  and 
that  by  that  law  all  true  strength  must  be  made 
perfect  in  weakness. 

David,  however,  did  become  a  hero  in  the 
sight  of  the  people ;  they  celebrated  in  their  songs 
and  dances  the  shepherd  who  had  become  the 
son  of  the  king,  and  who  slew  his  ten  thousands, 


THE    BIBLE.  267 

while  Saul  slew  his  "thousands.  A  fearful  crisis 
surely  for  him  who  had  been  learning  by  such 
slow,  silent  discipline,  and  now  by  such  a  signal 
triumph,  whence  all  glory  comes  !  A  dizzy 
height  for  a  man  to  stand  upon,  who  had  also  re- 
ceived the  mysterious  anointing,  and  who  might 
well  dream  that  a  kingdom  was  within  his  reach ! 
He  must  have  learned  then,  that  there  were 
stronger  and  nearer  enemies  than  Goliath,  who 
might  turn  his  boast  into  confusion,  his  life  into 
a  lie.  He  must  have  struggled  hard  with  those 
enemies ;  for  we  are  told  that  he  behaved  him- 
self prudently,  that  he  was  glad  to  soothe  Saul 
when  he  was  tormented  by  his  evil  spirit,  that  he 
fled  from  him  instead  of  provoking  his  wrath. 
But  if  he  had  been  under  no  better  conduct  than 
his  own,  his  prudence,  and  the  higher  wisdom 
which  was  the  source  of  it,  would  both  have  for- 
saken him  ;  he  would  have  snatched  at  a  power 
which  he  could  only  turn  to  the  ruin  of  those 
over  whom  he  exercised  it.  Ho  was  under  a 
Teacher  who  did  not  leave  him  to  himself,  who 
was  leading  him  through  the  terrible  discipline 
of  flattery,  as  He  had  through  the  quieter  and 
safer  experiences  of  his  youth,  to  understand 
what  a  king  is  and  what  his  dangers  are  ;  and 
who  had  yet  higher  lessons  for  him,  to  be  learnt 
in  another  way. 

David  as  an  outlaw  is  to  many  a  far  less  pleas- 


268  THE   SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

ant  subjeet  of  contemplation  than  the  same  Da- 
vid as  a  shepherd,  or  as  the  champion  of  Israel. 
Most  people  feel  the  beauty  of  the  story  of  Jona- 
than's love  for  him,  which  binds  these  two  por- 
tions of  his  history  together.  They  can  understand 
that  the  man  who  called  forth  such  affections 
must  have  had  deeper  qualities  in  him  than  those 
which  command  the  admiration  of  a  multitude, 
—  if  this  admiration  was  not  itself  paid  to  those 
qualities,  to  the  frank,  warm,  trustful  heart  which 
spoke  out  in  his  deeds,  rather  than  to  the  deeds 
merely  in  themselves.  But  the  captain  "  to  whom 
every  one  resorted  that  was  in  distress,  and  every 
one  who  was  discontented,"  the  freebooter  who 
made  a  foray  one  day  upon  the  Philistines,  and 
another  went  down  to  punish  Nabal  for  not  giv- 
ing food  to  support  his  followers,  affronts  all  our 
notions  of  what  is  decorous,  and  makes  us  think 
that  we  are  reading  the  exploits  of  a  border  chief, 
rather  than  a  passage  of  a  divine  record.  We 
certainly  should  not  shrink  from  describing  Da- 
vid in  the  terms  in  which  the  Bible  itself  de- 
scribes him,  nor  try  to  make  out  a  case  for  him 
or  it  by  distorting  a  single  fact,  even  by  giving 
it  a  different  color  from  that  which  it  would  have 
if  we  found  it  elsewhere.  If  we  met  with  the 
tale  as  simply  told  in  a  profane  author,  we  should 
admit  that  many  of  the  acts  attributed  to  David, 
however  strange  and  out  of  place  they  would  be 


THE    BIBLE.  269 

in  an  ordinary  legal  condition  of  society,  were 
perfectly  just  and  honorable  wjien  all  formal  bonds 
were  broken  ;  some  of  them  (e.  g.  his  conduct  to 
Achish)  we  should  say  were  natural,  but  not 
justifiable,  in  his  circumstances  or  any  other  cir- 
cumstances. We  cannot  vary  our  language  be- 
cause the  standard  of  the  book  we  are  reading  is 
more  divine.  The  difference  is,  that  while  the 
Bible  sets  before  us  broadly  and  without  comment 
just  the  temptations  which  a  man  in  such  a  po- 
sition would  be  likely  to  fall  into,  and  leaves  it 
to  our  conscience,  enlightened  by  its  own  teach- 
ing, to  say  when  he  did  or  did  not  fall  into  them, 
it  takes  still  more  pains  to  make  us  understand 
what  the  man  himself  was,  the  purpose  of  his 
being,  the  light  by  which  he  was  guided.  David, 
in  the  cave  of  Adullam,  amidst  his  wild,  reckless 
comrades,  is  essentially  the  same  man  as  David 
in  the  sheepfolds,  or  David  fighting  the  Philis- 
tine. He  had  not  chosen  his  own  circumstances, 
he  had  been  thrown  into  them.  He  did  not  rebel 
against  Saul.  He  did  not  deny  his  authority,  or 
plot  against  his  life,  even  when  he  had  cast  him 
off.  He  had  no  home,  and  he  was  compelled  to 
seek  one  where  he  could.  I  do  not  know  where 
a  better  home  could  have  been  provided  for  him 
than  among  these  men  in  distress,  in  debt,  in 
discontent.  If  it  behooved  a  ruler  to  know  the 
heart  of  his  subjects,  their  sorrows,  their  wrongs, 

23* 


270  THE   SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

their  crimes,  to  know  them  and  to  sympathize 
with  them,  this  was  surely  as  precious  a  part  of 
his  schooling  as  the  solitude  of  his  boyhood,  or 
as  any  intercourse  he  had  with  easy  men  who 
had  never  faced  the  misery  of  the  world,  and  had 
never  had  any  motive  to  quarrel  with  its  laws. 
He  was  now  among  the  lowest  of  those  whom  he 
would  afterwards  have  to  govern,  not  hearing  at 
a  distance  of  their  doings  and  sufferings,  but  par- 
taking in  them  livingly  ;  realizing  the  influences 
which  were  disposing  them  to  evil.  And  here 
he  was  acquiring  more  real  reverence  for  law 
and  order,  more  understanding  of  their  nature, 
than  those  can  ever  arrive  at  who  have  never 
known  the  need  of  them  from  the  want  of  them. 
He  was  bringing  his  wild  followers  under  a  lov- 
ing discipline  and  government  which  they  had 
never  experienced;  he  was  teaching  them  to  con- 
fess a  law,  which  no  tyrant  had  created,  no  anarchy 
could  set  aside.  He  instructed  them  by  his  exam- 
ple to  bow  before  female  grace  and  gentleness,  to 
reverence  the  person  of  an  enemy,  to  treat  a  king 
as  the  Lord's  anointed.  "  Come,  ye  children,"  he 
says  in  a  Psalm  which  a  reasonable  Jewish  tradi- 
tion connects  with  this  part  of  his  life,- — "  Come, 
ye  children,  and  I  will  teach  you  the  fear  of  the 
Lord.  What  man  is  he  that  lusteth  to  live  and 
would  fain  see  good  days  ?  Keep  thy  tongue 
from  evil,  and  thy  lips  that  they  speak  no  guile. 


THE   BIBLE.  271 

Eschew  evil  and  do  good ;  seek  peace  and  pursue 
it  The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  over  the  righteous ; 
his  ears  are  open  to  their  cry."  This  is  no  dull 
sermon  of  a  man  discoursing  to  wretched  people 
against  sins  to  which  he  has  no  mind.  It  is  the 
honest,  hearty,  sympathetic  voice"  of  a  captain 
speaking  to  a  band,  each  one  of  whom  he  knows, 
telling  him  of  a  right  way  which  they  may  follow 
together,  and  of  a  wrong  way  into  which  he  is  as 
much  in  danger  of  straying  as  themselves.  He 
speaks  to  them  of  a  God  who  thinks  of  them,  who 
is  watching  over  them,  who  does  not  despise  their 
poverty,  who  will  avenge  their  wrongs  ;  but  who 
desires  above  all  that  they  should  be  right,  who 
is  willing  and  able  to  make  them  right. 

And  this  was  the  lesson  which  David  was  at 
the  same  time  taking  home  to  his  own  inmost 
heart.  Through  oppression,  confusion,  lawless- 
ness, he  was  learning  the  eternal  and  essential 
righteousness  of  God.  He  had  been  taught  to 
despise  the  brute  force  of  the  lion  and  the  bear 
and  the  Philistine  before  ;  he  was  now  taught  to 
despise  all  power  whatsoever,  lodged  in  men  cir- 
cumcised or  uncircumcised,  which  was  maintain- 
ing itself  against  right.  He  was  set  in  the  throne 
who  judged  right.  "  Hear  the  right ;  attend  unto 
my  cry!"  he  could  say,  with  confidence  that  the 
prayer  would  at  last  be  answered.  He  was  sure 
that,  though  the  kings  of  the  earth  might  gather 


272  THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

together,  and  say,  "  Let  us  break  these  bands  of 
right  asunder,  and  cast  away  these  cords  from 
us,"  He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens  would  laugh, 
the  Lord  would  have  them  in  derision.  He  had 
set  His  righteous  king  upon  the  holy  hill  of  Zion, 
and  all  the  nations  must  do  him  homage. 

The  time  came  when  David's  faith  in  the  ex- 
istence of  a  righteous  kingdom,  which  had  its 
ground  in  the  unseen  world,  and  which  might 
exhibit  itself  really  though  not  perfectly  in  this, 
was  to  be  brought  to  the  severest  of  all  trials. 
Saul  died  on  the  mountains  of  Gilboa  :  the  Phil- 
istines possessed  themselves  of  the  cities  of  Israel. 
The  new  mode  of  government  for  which  the  peo- 
ple craved  so  earnestly  had  been  tried,  —  they 
had  become  like  the  countries  round  about, — 
these  countries  were  now  their  masters.  They 
had  gained  such  a  king  as  they  had  imagined,  — 
a  leader  of  their  hosts.  They  had  lost  law,  dis- 
cipline, and  fellowship ;  now  their  hosts  had  per- 
ished. Could  there  come  order  out  of  this  chaos  ? 
Whence  was  it  to  come  ?  From  a  band  of  free- 
booters ?  That  was  to  be  seen.  If  the  chief  of 
this  band  thought  of  setting  up  a  dominion  for 
himself,  of  making  his  followers  possessors  of  the 
lands  from  which  they  had  been  driven  out,  of 
putting  down  his  private  enemies,  of  rising  by 
the  arms  of  soldiers  and  the  choice  of  a  faction 
to  be  a  tyrant,  his  life  would  be  merely  a  vulgar 


THE   BIBLE.  273 

tale,  such  as  age  after  age,  civilized  and  barbar- 
ous, has  to  record,  —  a  tale  that  would  be  merely 
dull  and  flat  from  its  frequent  repetition,  from 
the  utter  absence  of  anything  but  the  lowest 
purposes  and  the  pettiest  plotting  in  the  actor, 
if  we  could  lose  the  sad  reflection  that  millions 
of  human  beings  are  interested  in  events  which 
the  on-looker  may  be  disposed  to  regard  with  in- 
difference or  contempt,  and  the  consolatory  rec- 
ollection, that,  by  the  crimes  of  foolish,  feeble 
men,  God  is  bringing  forth  his  wisdom  and  right- 
eousness into  clear  light.  But  if  David  took  this 
disordered,  miserable  country  of  his  fathers  into 
his  hands,  not  as  a  prize  which  he  had  won,  but 
as  a  heavy  a»d  awful  trust  that  was  committed 
to  him,  a  trust  for  which  he  had  been  prepared 
in  the  sheepfolds,  which  he  could  only  adminis- 
ter while  he  remembered  that  the  Lord  was  his 
Shepherd  and  that  He  was  the  Shepherd  of  every 
Israelite  and  of  every  man  on  the  earth,  —  then, 
however  hopeless  seemed  the  materials  with  which 
he  had  to  work,  and  which  he  had  to  mould,  he 
might  believe  confidently  that  he  should  be  in  his 
own  day  the  restorer  of  Israel,  and  the  witness 
and  prophet  of  the  complete  restoration  of  it  and 
of  mankind. 

This,  brethren,  was  the  man  after  God's  own 
heart,  the  man  who  thoroughly  believed  in  God, 
as   a  living   and   righteous   Being ;  who   in   all 


274  THE  SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

changes  of  fortune  clung  to  that  conviction ;  who 
could  act  upon  it,  live  upon  it ;  who  could  give 
himself  up  to  God  to  use  him  as  he  pleased  ;  who 
could  be  little  or  great,  popular  or  contemptible, 
just  as  God  saw  fit  that  he  should  be  ;  who  could 
walk  on  in  darkness  secure  of  nothing  but  this, 
that  truth  must  prevail  at  last,  and  that  he  was 
sent  into  the  world  to  live  and  die  that  it  might 
prevail ;  who  was  certain  that  the  triumph  of 
the  God  of  Heaven  would  be  for  the  blessing  of 
the  most  miserable  outcasts  upon  earth.  Have 
we  asked  ourselves  how  the  Scripture  can  dare 
to  represent  a  man  with  David's  many  failings, 
with  that  eager,  passionate  temper  which  evident- 
ly belonged  to  him,  with  all  the  manifold  tempta- 
tions which  accompany  a  vehement,  sympathetic 
character,  with  the  great  sins  which  we  shall 
be  told  of  hereafter,  as  one  who  could  share  the 
counsels  and  do  the  will  of  a  Holy  Being  ?  0, 
rather  let  us  ask  ourselves,  whether,  with  a  plau- 
sible exterior,  a  respectable  behavior,  an  unim- 
peachable decorum  in  the  sight  of  men,  we  can 
ever  win  this  smile,  hear  this  approving  sentence. 
The  words,  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant," are  not  spoken  by  the  Judge  of  all  now, 
will  not  be  spoken  in  the  last  day,  to  him  who 
has  found,,  in  his  pilgrimage  through  this  world, 
no  enemies  to  fight  with,  no  wrongs  to  be  re- 
dressed, no  right  to  be  maintained.     How  many 


THE   BIBLE.  275 

of  us  feel,  ill  looking  back  upon  acts  which  the 
world  has  not  condemned,  which  friends  have  per- 
haps applauded,  "  We  had  no  serious  purpose 
there  ;  we  merely  did  what  it  was  seemly  and 
convenient  to  do ;  we  were  not  yielding  to  God's 
righteous  will ;  we  were  not  inspired  by  His 
love  "  !  How  many  of  us  feel  that  our  bitterest 
repentances  are  to  be  for  this,  —  that  all  things 
have  gone  so  smoothly  with  us,  because  we  did 
not  care  to  make  the  world  better  or  to  be  better 
ourselves  !  How  many  of  us  feel  that  those  who 
have  committed  grave  outward  transgressions, 
into  which  we  have  not  fallen  because  the  mo- 
tives to  them  were  not  present  with  us,  or  because 
God's  grace  kept  us  hedged  round  by  influences 
which  resisted  them,  may  nevertheless  have  had 
hearts  which  answered  more  to  God's  heart, 
which  entered  far  more  into  the  grief  and  the  joy 
of  his  Spirit,  than  ours  ever  did  !  And  that  such 
lamentations  for  the  past  may  not  be  fruitless,  let 
us  ask,  for  the  time  to  come,  that  he  may  not  be 
of  the  class  which  Christ  describes  by  the  mouth 
of  his  Apostle,  as  neither  hot  nor  cold ;  that  He 
will  fill  us  with  a  burning  zeal  in  his  service ; 
that  He  will  make  us  indifferent  where  or  among 
whom  our  lot  is  cast,  among  princes  or  among 
outlaws,  whether  we  are  respected  or  scorned ; 
so  long  as  we  may  but  testify  to  all,  that  He  who 
took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  He  who  was 


276  THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

despised  and  rejected  of  men,  the  true  Man  after 
God's  own  heart,  the  Son  of  David  and  the  Son 
of  God,  is  the  present  and  eternal  Shepherd,  to 
■whom  the  weary  and  wandering  may  turn  for 
help  and  guidance  now,  since  he  has  passed 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  for 
them ;  from  whom  they  may  expect  fuller  deliv- 
erence  hereafter,  seeing  that  He  must  reign  till 
He  has  put  all  enemies  under  his  feet. 


DAVID   THE   KING. 


"  And  David  perceived  that  the  Lord  had  established  him  king  over 
Israel,  and  that  he  had  exalted  his  kingdom  for  his  people  Israel's 
sake."  —  2  Samuel  v.  12. 

This  language,  some  may  think,  would  have 
been  suitable  and  pious,  if  an  extraordinary,  evi- 
dently miraculous  event  had  raised  David  to  the 
throne  of  Israel.  Such  an  event  might  have*  en- 
abled him  to  perceive  that  he  was  divinely  elected 
to  reign ;  he  might  have  continued  to  reign  with 
the  same  comfortable  assurance.  But  he  ap- 
pears to  have  risen  quite  as  slowly  —  under  the 
same  course  of  accidents  —  as  other  leaders  of 
troops  in  tolerably  quiet  conditions  of  society,  to 
say  nothing  of  those  which  are  utterly  anarchical. 
He  belonged  to  an  honorable  tribe,  he  had  per- 
formed great  exploits,  he  had  strong  popular  sym- 


THE   BIBLE.  277 

patliy  with  him,  increased  by  the  unfair  treat- 
ment he  had  undergone  from  Saul.  He  had  the 
command  of  a  body  of  compact,  devoted,  even 
desperate  followers.  Saul  and  Jonathan  were 
dead.  Battles  and  assassinations,  perpetrated  by 
men  hoping  to  gain  rewards  from  him,  or  under 
the  influence  of  private  enmity,  removed  his 
rivals  out  of  his  way.  What  man,  who  has  not 
taken  some  very  outrageous  method  of  establish- 
ing his  power,  might  not  say  that  the  Lord  had 
bestowed  his  dominion  upon  him,  if  that  phrase 
became  the  lips  of  the  shepherd  sovereign  ? 

This  is  a  question  which  I  am  not  able  to  an- 
swer. I  do  not  know  what  king  might  not  safely 
adopt  these  words,  and  ought  not  to  adopt  them. 
The  danger,  I  fancy,  lies  in  the  disbelief  of  them, 
or  in  the  idle  use  of  them  when  no  definite  mean- 
ing is  attached  to  them.  So  far  from  admitting 
that  David  would  have  had  more  right,  or  would 
have  been  more  likely,  to  think  and  speak  as  he 
did,  if  some  angel  suddenly  appearing  had  placed 
the  crown  upon  his  head,  I  apprehend  that  the 
strength  and  liveliness  of  his  conviction  arose 
from  the  number  of  conspiring  accidents,  often 
seemingly  cross  accidents,  which  had  led  him  in- 
to so  new  and  dangerous  a  position.  It  was  the 
successiveness,  the  continuity,  of  the  steps  in  his 
history,  which  assured  him  that  God's  hand  had 
been  directing  the  whole  of  it.     One  startling 

24 


278  THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

event  would  have  made  no  such  impression  upon 
him.  That  he  might  have  referred  to  chance,  or 
to  the  rare  irregular  interference  of  an  omnipo- 
tent being.  Only  such  a  being  as  the  Lord  God 
of  .Abraham,  only  one  who  had  guided  each  pa- 
triarch and  the  whole  nation  from  age  to  age 
through  strange  unknown  ways,  could  have  woven 
the  web  of  his  destinies,  could  have  controlled 
his  proceedings  and  the  proceedings  of  indif- 
ferent, of  unrighteous  men.  Had  David,  instead 
of  maintaining  the  ground  which  circumstances 
pointed  out  to  him  as  his,  seized  violently  that 
which  was  not  his,  he  would  not  have  perceived 
that  the  Lord  had  made  him  king  of  Israel ;  he 
would  have  felt  that  he  had  made  himself  so,  and 
would  have  acted  upon  that  persuasion. 

For  the  two  clauses  of  the  sentence  are  inti- 
mately and  inseparably  connected.  David  per- 
ceived that  God  had  established  his  kingdom,  and 
he  knew  that  He  had  exalted  it  for  his  people  Is- 
rael's sake.  A  government  which  a  man  wins  for 
himself  he  uses  for  himself.  That  which  he  in- 
wardly and  practically  acknowledges  as  conferred 
upon  him  by  a  righteous  being,  cannot  be  intend- 
ed for  himself.  And  thus  it  is,  that  the  early  and 
mysterious  teaching  of  David  while  he  was  in  the 
sheepfolds,  bore  so  mightily  upon  his  life  after  he 
became  a  king.  The  deepest  lesson  which  he  had 
learnt  was,  that  he  himself  was  under  govern- 


THE   BIBLE.  279 

ment ;  that  in  his  heart  and  will  was  the  inmost 
circle  of  that  authority  which  the  winds  and  the 
sea,  the  moon  and  the  stars,  obeyed.  We  have 
seen  how  the  sense  of  this  invisible  kingdom  was 
awakened  in  him,  how  it  was  quickened  by  all 
joyful  and  bitter  experiences,  by  the  care  of  sheep 
and  the  society  of  outlaws.  To  understand  that 
the  empire  over  wills  and  hearts  is  the  highest 
which  man  can  exercise,  because  it  is  the  highest 
which  God  exercises ;  to  understand  that  his  em- 
pire cannot  be  one  of  rough  compulsion,  because 
the  divinest  power  is  not  of  this  kind  ;  to  under- 
stand that  the  necessity  for  stern,  quick,  inevitable 
punishment  arises  from  the  unwillingness  of  men 
to  abide  under  a  yoke  of  grace  and  gentleness  ;  to 
understand  that  the  law  looks  terrible  and  over- 
whelming to  the  wrong-doer,  just  because  he  has 
shaken  off  his  relation  to  the  Person  from  whom 
law  issues,  in  whom  dwells  all  humanity  and  sym- 
pathy, all  forgiveness  and  reclaiming  mercy,  — 
this  was  the  highest  privilege  of  a  Jewish  king, 
that  upon  which  the  rightful  exercise  of  all  his 
functions  depended. 

Two  memorable  passages  in  the  history  of 
David,  the  establishment  of  his  capital,  and  the 
removal  of  the  ark  to  the  hill  above  it,  illustrate 
the  principles  upon  which  his  kingdom  stood,  and 
show  wherein  it  differed  from  the  great  Asiatic 
empires  which  were  contemporary  with  it,  and 


280  THE   SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

which  had  existed  nearly  in  the  same  form  per- 
haps centuries  before  the  birth  of  Abraham.  The 
first  sign  of  the  unity  of  these  monarchies  was 
the  building  of  some  great  city,  Babylon,  or 
Calah,  or  Nineveh.  The  inhabitants  of  such  cit- 
ies felt  that  they  were  a  people,  because  they  were 
compassed  with  walls.  Within  those  walls  there 
speedily  were  built  temples  to  some  of  the  pow- 
ers of  nature  which  they  feared.  Yery  soon,  as 
we  now  have  such  good  means  of  knowing,  the 
arts  of  sculpture  came  forth,  doing  honor  to  ani- 
mal forms,  which  for  their  strength  or  their  swift- 
ness were  believed  to  be  divine.  With  a  great 
hunter  as  a  ruler,  with  one  of  these  cities  as  the 
centre  of  their  strength,  with  divinities  thus  con- 
ceived and  visibly  represented  as  their  protectors, 
these  Asiatic  worlds  continually  enlarged  their 
limits,  absorbed  new  tribes  into  themselves,  ac- 
quired the  titles  of  conquest  and  glory  for  one  or 
another  of  their  temporary  masters.  The  com- 
monwealth of  Israel  began  in  open  plains  and 
pastures.  A  single  man,  who  had  not  a  foot  of 
earth  for  his  possession,  was  its  founder.  A  fam- 
ily of  colonists,  still  dwelling  on  a  land  which 
was  not  theirs,  succeeded  to  him.  These  became 
a  race  of  Egyptian  captives.  They  acquired  laws, 
festivals,  a  polity,  first  in  a  wilderness.  They 
struggled  hard  for  generations  with  the  corrupted 
people  of  the  land  into  which  they  came.     Only 


THE   BIBLE.  281 

after  centuries  of  conflicts,  discomfitures,  humili- 
ations, they  acquired  a  king,  and  a  city  -which  he 
could  make  the  centre  of  their  tribes.  But  these 
had  been  centuries  of  moral  and  political  progress, 
of  the  deepest  experiences  for  individuals  and  for 
the  whole  nation,  respecting  the  grounds  of  their 
social  existence  and  the  relation  in  which  they 
stood  to  the  visible  and  invisible  world.  All  this 
time  they  had  been  learning  to  worship  a  Being 
who  was  not  to  be  made  in  the  likeness  of  things 
in  heaven  above  or  in  the  earth  beneath ;  to  ap- 
prehend him  as  a  present,  unseen  Lawgiver, 
Judge,  Deliverer,  in  whom  they  might  put  their 
trust.  They  learnt  that  a  nation  built  upon  fear 
and  distrust  must  be  evil  while  it  lasts,  and  must 
at  length  come  to  ruin.  Here  are  the  two  kinds 
of  civilization ;  the  civic  life,  the  life  of  cities,  is 
in  one  the  beginning,  is  in  the  other  the  result,  of 
a  long  process.  But  in  the  first  you  have  a  des- 
potism, which  becomes  more  expansive  and  more 
oppressive  from  day  to  day  :  expansive  everywhere 
except  in  the  spirits  of  those  it  rules ;  they  are 
more  contracted  from  year  to  year :  oppressive  of 
everything  but  crime  and  disorder ;  they  possess 
growing  activity  and  freedom.  In  the  other  case, 
you  have  a  struggle,  sometimes  a  weary  struggle ; 
but  it  is  the  struggle  of  spirits,  it  is  a  struggle  for 
life.  And  God  himself  is  helping  that  struggle, 
is  working  with  and  for  the  spirits  whom  he  has 

24* 


282       THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

formed,  is  bringing  them  out  of  darkness  into  an 
ever  clearer  and  broader  light,  out  of  confusion 
into  a  real,  at  last  even  to  something  like  a  visi- 
ble and  outward  unity. 

But  this  unity  does  not  stand  in  the  walls  of 
the  capital  city,  even  though  that  city  be  the  holy 
city  and  the  city  of  peace.  When  David  had 
made  this  conquest  from  the  Jebusites,  and  had 
set  up  his  throne  in  it,  he  was  impatient  till  he 
had  brought  the  ark  of  God  there,  and  placed  it, 
with  songs  and  shoutings  and  dancings,  on  the 
holy  hill.  That  ark  had  been  the  witness  to  the 
people  that  they  were  one  people,  because  they 
had  the  one  God  dwelling  in  the  midst  of  them 
while  they  were  shifting  their  tents  continu- 
ally in  the  wilderness,  perishing  from  heat  and 
drought,  sighing  for  the  slavery,  if  they  might 
but  have  the  flesh-pots,  of  Egypt.  It  was  to  be 
the  witness  of  the  same  truth  to  those  who  were 
dwelling  in  settled  habitations,  who  were  under 
a  native  government,  whose  hunger  and  thirst 
were  not  quenched  by  manna  from  heaven  or  by 
water  from  a  rock,  but  by  the  produce  of  ordi- 
nary fields  and  fountains.  It  spoke  to  them,  as  it 
had  to  the  others,  of  a  permanent  Being,  of  a  right- 
eous Being,  always  above  his  creatures,  always 
desiring  fellowship  with  them,  a  fellowship  which 
they  could  only  realize  when  they  were  seeking 
to  be  like  him.     "  Lord,  who  shall  ascend  to  thy 


THE   BIBLE.  283 

tabernacle  ?  Who  shall  dwell  in  thy  holy  hill  ?  " 
—  so  spake  David  as  he  brought  the  ark  to  its 
resting-place.  — "  Even  he  that  hath  clean  hands 
and  a  pure  heart,  who  hath  not  lifted  up  his  eyes 
unto  vanity,  nor  sworn  to  deceive  his  neighbor." 

The  moral  being  of  the  nation,  then,  as  of  each 
individual  of  it,  stood  in  the  confession  of  a  Per- 
son absolutely  good,  the  ground  of  all  goodness 
in  his  creatures,  accessible  to  them  while  they 
sought  him  with  fear  and  reverence  as  the  King, 
Protector,  Friend,  of  each  and  of  all.  There 
could  be  no  lesson  to  a  king  so  deep  and  solemn 
as  this,  respecting  the  nature,  condition,  and  bul- 
warks of  his  own  authority ;  no  warning  so  fear- 
ful against  forgetting  that  the  bond  which  united 
him  to  his  subjects  was  also  the  bond  which 
united  him  to  God.  He  ruled  so  long  as  his 
throne  was  based  upon  righteousness ;  the  mo- 
ment he  sought  for  any  other  foundation,  he 
would  become  weak  and  contemptible.  All  Da- 
vid's discipline  had  been  designed  to  settle  him 
in  this  truth.  He  was  the  man  after  God's  own 
heart,  because  he  so  graciously  received  that 
discipline  and  imbibed  that  truth.  The  signal 
sin  of  his  life  confirmed  it  still  more  mightily  for 
himself  and  for  all  ages  to  come. 

I  have  shown  in  what  respect  David  was  not 
an  ordinary  Oriental  monarch,  but  the  very  op- 
posite of  one.      The  history  tells  us  as  plainly, 


284  THE  SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

that  there  were  points  in  which  he  resembled  the 
sovereigns  of  the  East  of  that  day,  and  the  Ca- 
liphs and  Sultans  of  later  times.  He  had  his 
wives  and  his  concubines.  No  divine  edict  told 
him  that  such  indulgence  was  unlawful.  For 
thanks  be  to  God,  though  he  makes  use  of  edicts 
and  statutes,  it  is  not  by  these  mainly  that  he 
rules  the  universe.  The  Bible,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  from  first  to  last  the  history  of  a  practical  edu- 
cation, God  leading  men  by  slow  degrees  to  enter 
into  his  mind  and  purposes,  and  to  mould  their, 
own  into  conformity  with  his.  If  we  want  ex- 
emplifications of  all  the  miseries  and  curses  which 
spring  from  the  mixture  of  families  and  the  deg- 
radation of  women  in  a  court  and  country  where 
polygamy  exists,  David's  history  supplies  them. 
No  maxims  of  morality  can  be  half  so  effectual 
as  a  faithful  record  of  terrible  facts  like  these. 
But  the  thorough  correction  of  this  monstrous 
evil,  the  full  assertion  of  the  principle  which  is. 
opposed  to  it,  could  not,  so  far  as  we  may  judge, 
be  brought  out  in  that  stage  of  the  history  of 
society.  In  later  times  of  the  Jewish  common- 
wealth, when  the  royal  power  had  ceased,  when 
the  people  had  been  more  instructed  in  the  oppo- 
sition between  their  own  polity  and  that  of  the 
Asiatic  despotisms,  there  was  a  very  evident  awa- 
kening of  the  conscience  upon  this  subject,  a  grow- 
ing anticipation  of  the  principle  which  Christen- 


THE   BIBLE.  285 

dom  has  adopted  and  canonized.  The  like  feeling, 
however  resisted  by  evil  passions  and  a  corrupt 
mythology,  it  pleased  God  to  awaken  in  some  of 
the  Pagan  nations  of  the  West,  —  in  Greece,  in 
Rome,  among  the  Teutonic  tribes.  The  instinc- 
tive recognition  of  the  true  law  of  marriage  was 
a  preparation  —  the  most  wonderful,  perhaps,  of 
all  —  for  the  revelation  of  the  one  Lord  and  Hus- 
band of  Humanity.  Certainly  wherever  polygamy 
exists  there  is  the  most  fatal  resistance  to  that 
revelation  ;  certainly  also,  wherever  the  fact  of 
Christ's  incarnation  is  acknowledged,  there  is  a 
horror  of  polygamy  which  can  be  explained  by 
no  arguments,  which  resists  all  subtilties  of  logic, 
all  pretended  authority  from  the  example  of  pa- 
triarchs, which  prohibits  by  a  fixed  law  what  was 
esteemed  innocent  and  regal  among  those  who 
lived  before  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  was  pro- 
claimed, even  though  they  might  be  the  prophets 
of  it. 

These  facts  must  be  borne  in  mind,  if  we 
would  understand  what  constituted  that  guilt  of 
David  which  the  Prophet  Nathan  brought  home 
to  him  by  the  story  of  the  ewe-lamb.  For  a  king 
to  take  the  wife  of  a  poor  man,  —  how  light  a 
fault  may  this  have  appeared  to  one  with  the 
power  and  privileges  wjiich  David  possessed ! 
Supposing  there  was  a  fixed  law  against  adultery, 
did  this  law  apply  to  the  ruler  of  the  land  ?  was 


286  THE   SIXTH  STORMY   SUNDAY. 

he  not  in  some  sense  above  law  ?  Such  are  the 
arguments  and  sophistries  which  would  occur  to 
one  who  was  wrestling  with  his  conscience,  either 
to  give  him  leave  to  commit  a  wrong,  or  not  to 
torment  him  for  it  when  it  was  done.  And  then 
if  the  husband  of  this  woman  stood  in  the  way  of 
the  full  gratification  of  his  purpose,  or  of  the 
concealment  of  it,  was  there  anything  strange 
that  he,  who  was  exposing  thousands  of  his  sub- 
jects to  the  chances  of  battle  and  death,  should 
expose  this  one  ?  Why  was  his  life  more  precious 
than  that  of  any  other  Israelite  ?  Was  it  precious 
simply  because  it  was  convenient  to  his  master 
that  he  should  lose  it  ?  And  so  the  deeds  were 
done.  Bathsheba  was  taken ;  Joab,  by  David's 
order,  put  Uriah  in  an  exposed  place,  where  he 
was  sure  to  be  slain.  And  David,  no  doubt,  per- 
formed all  his  official  tasks  as  before,  went  daily 
to  the  services  of  the  tabernacle,  was  probably 
most  severe  in  enforcing  punishments  upon  all 
wrong-doers.  That  characteristic  feature  of  a 
transgressor,  his  rapid  and  bitter  condemnation 
of  other  transgressors,  is  strikingly  preserved  in 
the  Scripture  portrait.  "  And  David's  anger  was 
greatly  kindled  against  the  rich  man  who  had 
stolen  the  poor  man's  lamb.  And  he  said,  '  The 
man  who  hath  done  this  thing  shall  surely  die.'  " 
This  energy  of  virtue,  this  mighty  effort  to  get 
credit  with  one's  self  for  a  lively  sense  of  right 


THE  BIBLE.  287 

and  hatred  of  injustice,  —  who  does  not  recog- 
nize it  ?  Who  should  not  tremble  while  he  thinks, 
The  evil  spirit  who  prompts  to  this  consummate 
deceit  and  hypocrisy,  is  near  to  me ;  I  am  tempt- 
ed continually  to  fly  from  the  light  which  would 
show  me  the  foul  spots  in  my  own  soul,  by  pro- 
jecting them  outside  of  me,  and  pronouncing  sen- 
tence upon  them  in  another  man.  But  how  satis- 
factory to  think,  that,  while  all  this  was  at  work 
in  David's  heart,  it  was  not  left  to  the  ease  and 
comfort  which,  no  doubt,  it  was  seeking  for,  and 
striving  by  all  artifices  to  secure.  What  availed 
it  that  he  could  so  plausibly  justify  the  acts  he 
had  done,  and  give  them  gentle  names,  and  could 
prove  that  they  were  not  adultery  and  murder 
in  him,  though  they  might  be  in  any  one  else  ? 
What  availed  it  that  he  could  look  back  to  holy 
prayers  and  songs  in  the  night,  and  evident  tokens 
that  God  was  with  him.  What  availed  it  to  argue 
that  he  must  be  the  same  man  now  that  he  had 
ever  been  ?  There  was  a  voice  near  him  saying, 
"  Thou  hast  done  it,  and  thou  canst  not  change  it. 
God  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  It  signifies  noth- 
ing to  him  that  thou  art  called  king,  or  saint,  or 
psalmist.  Thy  heart  is  not  at  one  with  him,  and 
thou  knowest  it.  Thou  art  living  in  a  lie,  and 
thou  knowest  it.  Thou  art  a  miserable  heartless 
man  at  this  time,  and  thou  knowest  it.  And  to 
have  been  called  the  man  after  God's  own  heart, 


288  THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

is  nothing  at  all  to  thee.  It  only  adds  a  sting  and 
bitterness  to  thy  present  self-condemnation,  such 
as  another  could  not  feel."  He  understood  this 
voice  afterwards  Then  the  effect  of  it  was  mere 
anarchy,  and  restlessness  of  mind,  —  a  condition 
in  which  man  hates  his  fellows  and  wishes  to  dis- 
believe in  God,  and  dares  not.  "  When  I  held 
my  tongue,"  he  says,  "  my  bones  waxed  old 
through  my  daily  complaining.  For  thy  hand 
was  heavy  upon  me.  My  moisture  was  turned 
into  the  drought  of  summer."  No  language  ever 
described  so  vividly  the  sense  of  a  weight  at  the 
heart,  a  weight  that  cannot  be  lifted  ;  and  it  was 
the  weight  of  God's  own  presence,  of  that  pres- 
ence which  he  had  once  spoken  of  as  the  fulness 
of  joy.  With  this  oppression,  like  that  of  the 
air  before  a  thunder-storm,  came  the  drying  up  of 
all  the  moisture  and  freshness  of  life,  the  parch- 
ing heat  of  fever.  Did  the  Prophet  Nathan  bring 
all  this  to  his  consciousness  ?  No,  surely.  The 
Prophet  Nathan  came  at  the  appointed  moment, 
to  tell  him  in  clear  words,  by  a  living  instance, 
that  which  he  had  been  hearing  in  muttered  ac- 
cents within  his  heart  for  months  before.  He 
came  to  tell  him  that  the%  God  of  righteousness 
and  mercy,  who  cared  for  Uriah,  the  poor  man 
with  the  single  ewe-lamb,  was  calling  him,  the 
king,  to  account,  for  an  act  of  unrighteousness 
and  unmercifulness.    Nathan  brought  him  to  face 


THE  BIBLE.  .  289" 

steadily  the  light  at  which  he  had  been  winking, 
and  to  own  that  the  light  was  good,  that  it  was 
the  darkness  only  which  was  horrible  and  hateful ; 
*so  that  he  might  turn  to  the  light,  and  crave  that 
it  should  once  more  penetrate  into  the  depths  of 
his  being  and  take  possession  of  him. 

And  this  was  his  confession  and  prayer.  He 
makes  out  no  case  for  himself;  he  pleads  no  ex- 
tenuating circumstances.  I  myself  have  sinned, 
and  done  this  evil  in  thy  sight.  My  joy  is  in  the 
thought,  that  Thou  wilt  be  clear  when  Thou  art 
judged.  Tf  I  did  not  believe  that  Thou  art  al- 
together just  and  righteous  and  true,  I  could 
have  no  hope.  Because  Thou  art  this,  I  believe 
that  Thou  canst  and  wilt  make  me  a  clean  heart, 
and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me.  It  is  not  the 
misery  which  Thou  wilt  lay  upon  me  for  my  sin, 
that  I  dread ;  the  misery  is  to  be  false,  and  to 
continue  in  a  falsehood.  But  Thou  desirest  truth 
in  the  inward  parts,  and  Thou  canst  make  me  to 
understand  wisdom  secretly.  I  fancied,  till  Thou 
didst  find  me  out,  that  I  could  make  peace  with 
Thee  by  offering  sacrifices.  But  Thou  desirest 
not  sacrifice,  else  would  I  give  it  Thee.  Thou 
thyself  must  give  the  sacrifice  that  we  may  offer 
it.  This  one  of  a  broken  and  contrite  heart  which 
Thou  hast  given  to  me,-I  offer  to  Thee,  and  Thou 
wilt  not  despise  it.  When  Thou  hast  restored 
the  king  to  his  right  state,  and  built  up  again  the 

25 


290  THE  SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

walls  of  the  city  which  Thou  hast  promised  to 
bless,  then  indeed  we  may  come  and  offer  bul- 
locks upon  Thy  altar,  the  expressions  of  united 
submission  of  kings  and  people  to  Thee,  their 
just  and  forgiving  King  and  Lord. 

What  was  the  answer  to  this  prayer  ?  First, 
the  death  of  Bathsheba's  child ;  next,  the  discov- 
ery of  hateful  crimes  in  his  household  ;  finally, 
the  revolt  of  the  beloved  Absalom.  These  — 
answers  to  a  prayer  for  forgiveness  ?  Yes,  if  for- 
giveness means  what  David  took  it  to  mean,  hav- 
ing truth  in  the  inward  parts,  knowing  wisdom 
secretly.  He  had  had  falsehood  in  his  inward 
parts ;  he  had  cherished  the  delusion  that  he  was 
free  to  do  what  he  liked,  that  laws  and  rules  were 
not  for  him,  that  he  might  use  a  subject  at  his 
pleasure.  The  taking  the  sins  home  to  himself, 
instead  of  imputing  them  to  circumstances  or  to 
God,  had  brought  him  into  fellowship  with  Truth 
once  more.  He  had  known  folly  secretly ;  he  had 
dallied  with  silly,  childish  excuses ;  he  had  lost 
all  freedom  and  manliness  of  spirit.  Now  he  had 
desired  to  be  Wisdom's  pupil  again.  He  had  be- 
gun, with  more  prostration  of  heart  than  ever 
before,  to  learn  her  lessons.  And  she  would  as- 
suredly not  leave  him  till  she  had  written  them 
upon  his  mind.  To  have  his  people's  heart  stolen 
from  him,  to  have  his  child  for  his  enemy,  to  be 
deserted  by  his  counsellors  and  his  wives,  to  lose 


THE   BIBLE.  291 

his  kingdom,  to  be  mocked  and  cursed,  —  this 
was  rough  discipline  surely.  But  he  had  desired 
it ;  he  had  said  deliberately,  "  Make  me  a  clean 
heart,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me."  And 
that  blessing,  —  if  it  was  granted  him  in  part  at 
once,  if  he  rose  up  from  that  very  prayer  a  freed 
man  with  a  free  spirit,  —  yet  was  to  be  realized 
through  his  whole  life,  and  to  be  secured  by 
methods  which  he  certainly  would  not  have  de- 
vised or  chosen  for  himself. 

But,  as  in  all  his  past  history,  the  discipline 
was  not  for  him  more  than  for  his  people,  not  for 
his  people  more  than  for  all  ages  to  come.  The 
kingly  lesson  and  the  human  lesson  are  nowhere 
more  intimately  united  than  here.  That  which 
enabled  David',  crushed  and  broken,  to  be  more 
than  ever  the  man  after  God's  own  heart,  to  see 
more  than  ever  into  the  depths  of  wisdom  and 
love  in  that  heart,  was  also  that  which  fitted  him 
to  be  a  ruler,  by  understanding  the  only  con- 
dition on  which  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  exer- 
cise real  dominion  over  others,  namely,  when  he 
gives  up  himself,  that  they  may  know  God,  and 
not  him,  to  be  their  sovereign. 

Those  who  administered  the  affairs  of  the  Eng- 
lish Church  in  the  early  years  of  the  reign  of 
Charles  II.  chose  the  passage  of  the  Book  of  Sam- 
uel which  describes  David's  return  to  his  king- 
dom, for  the  service  on  the  29th  of  May.     There 


292  p         THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

was  a  solemn  warning  in  their  selection.  History 
lias  turned  it  into  bitter  irony.  The  nse  of  this 
lesson  forbids  us  to  forget  the  certain  and  terrible 
truth,  that  years  of  hard  adversity  and  suffering 
do  not  of  themselves  fit  a  man  to  reign ;  that 
they  may  be  worse  than  wasted  upon  him ;  that 
he  may  come  out  of  them  more  reckless  and 
heartless,  more  ignorant  of  any  government  ex- 
ercised over  himself,  less  conscious  of  any  respon- 
sibility for  the  government  which  he  exercises 
over  others,  than  he  went  into  them.  For  our 
own  individual  benefit,  as  well  as  for  the  sake  of 
nations,  we  should  lay  this  doctrine,  hard  though 
it  be,  to  heart.  Adversity"  is  in  itself  as  little 
gracious  as  prosperity.  Moral  death  may  be  the 
fruit  of  one,  as  much  as  of  the  other.  It  was 
otherwise  with  David,  not  because  adversity  had 
any  especial  influence  over  him  which  it  has  not 
over  us,  but  because  he  accepted  it  as  God's  pun- 
ishment and  medicine,  because  he  believed  that 
God  would  do  the  good  for  him  which  adversity 
could  not  do. 

One  of  the  best  proofs,  it  seems  to  me,  that  his 
schooling  was  effectual,  is  this,  that  all  his  family 
griefs,  his  experience  of  his  own  evil,  the  deser- 
tion of  his  subjects,  did  not  lead  him  to  fancy  that 
he  should  be  following  a  course  acceptable  to  God, 
if  he  retired  to  the  deserts,  or  ceased  to  be  a  shep- 
herd of  Israel,  instead  of  doing  the  work  which 


THE  BIBLE.  293 

was  appointed  for  him.  It  shows  how  healthy 
and  true  his  repentance  and  faith  were,  that  he 
again  set  himself  to  organize  the  people  and  to 
fight  their  battles,  to  feed  them  and  rule  them 
with  all  his  power,  when  a  religious  prudence  or 
self-interest  might  have  whispered,  "  Do  thy  best 
to  make  amends  by  services  to  God  for  the  ills 
thou  hast  done ;  save  thyself,  whatever  becomes 
of  thy  people  Israel."  These  ungodly  suggestions 
the  like  of  which  came  as  angels  of  light  to  so 
many  Christian  monarchs  in  the  Middle  Ages  and 
sent  them  to  do  penance  for  their  evils  and  to  seek 
a  crown  of  glory  in  monasteries,  may  have  pre- 
sented themselves  to  the  man  after  God's  own 
heart.  If  they  did,  he  proved  his  title  to  the 
name  by  rejecting  them.  He  showed  that  he 
could  trust  God  to  put  him  in  the  position  that 
was  best  for  him,  that  he  knew  God  did  not  send 
him  into  the  world  to  provide  either  for  his  body 
or  his  soul,  but  to  glorify  His  name  and  to  bless 
His  creatures.  He  was  most  devoted  to  God 
when  he  was  most  devoted  to  His  work.  He 
prayed  fervently  because  he  lived  fervently.  He 
found  out  the  necessity  of  seeking  God  continual- 
ly, of  meditating  upon  His  law,  of  blessing  His 
name,  because  he  learnt  how  weak  he  was,  and 
how  little  he  could  be  a  king  over  men,  when  the 
image  of  the  divine  kingdom  was  not  present  to 
him. 

25* 


294  THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

This  is  the  impression  which  is  left  upon  onr 
minds  by  the  general  context  of  his  history  after 
his  restoration.  There  are  passages  of  that  his- 
tory, such  as  his  giving  up  the  sons  of  Saul  to  the 
Gibeonites,  which  I  do  not  understand.  I  can 
perceive  in  the  story  a  recognition  of  the  contin- 
uance of  a  nation's  life,  of  its  obligations  and  its 
sins,  from  age  to  age.  All  national  morality,  nay, 
the  meaning  and  possibility  of  history,  depends 
upon  this  truth,  the  sense  of  which  is,  I  fear,  very 
weak  in  our  day.  But  I  cannot  in  the  least  tell 
why  the  death  of  Saul's  children  should  have 
been  the  needful  expiation  of  the  nation's  crimes. 
I  do  not,  indeed,  see  any  pretext  for  the  supposi- 
tion, of  course  a  very  ready  and  obvious  one,  that 
it  was  an  act  of  policy  on  David's  part  to  rid  him- 
self of  a  dangerous  family;  there  would  be  a 
blackness  in  the  putting  forward  of  a  religious 
motive  for  such  a  crime,  which  all  our  knowledge 
of  his  previous  life  forbids  us  to  attribute  to  him. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  conceive  that  we  are  not 
bound  to  assume  that  the  proceeding  was  in  all 
particulars  a  just  one,  because  we  are  told  that  a 
divine  intimation  was  the  cause  of  it. .  The  Scrip- 
ture is  most  careful  that  we  should  feel  the  real- 
ity of  these  intimations,  that  we  should  refer  them 
to  their  true  source,  and  yet  that  we  should  un- 
derstand how  possible  it  is  for  a  man  to  pervert 
them  and  found  wrong  inferences  upon  them,  if 


THE  BIBLE.  295 

his  own  mind  is  not  in  a  thoroughly  pure  and 
healthy  condition. 

An  instance  which  illustrates  and  proves  that 
principle  occurs  shortly  after  this  one.  God  is 
said  to  tempt  David  to  number  the  people.  The 
thought  that  it  was  a  blessing  and  a  cause  of 
thankfulness  to  be  the  head  of  a  growing  and 
thriving  people,  —  this  was  divine.  The  thought 
that  it  was  well  for  a  ruler  to  be  acquainted  with 
the  condition  and  resources  of  his  people,  —  this 
was  divine.  With  the  confidence  that  it  was, 
must  have  come  an  assurance,  from  the  very  exist- 
ence of  the  Book  of  Numbers,  that  it  was  a  right 
thing  in  itself,  a  part  of  the  divine  ordinance, 
that  each  tribe  and  its  families,  and  the  persons 
who  compose  them,  should  be  registered.  But 
the  determination,  just  then,  to  send  forth  officers 
for  the  sake  of  ascertaining  the  armed  force  of 
the  land,  —  this  was  the  thought  of  a  self-exalted 
man,  aspiring  to  be  a  military  chief  and  conquer- 
or ;  a  thought  which  was  at  work  also  in  his  peo- 
ple, and  which  threatened  to  make  their  organ- 
ization and  his  victories  steps  to  their  ruin.  And 
this  tendency  in  king  and  people  was  checked  by 
a  sweeping  pestilence,  which  brought  them  back 
to  the  feeling  that  their  power  did  not  lie  in  the 
number  of  men  capable  of  bearing  arms;  that,  if 
this  were  their  reliance,  they  would  soon  be  swal- 
lowed up  by  empires  immeasurably  greater  than 


296  THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

themselves,  the  habits  and  false  notions  of  which 
they  were  adopting.  I  do  not  know  anything  so 
instructive  to  us,  if  we  use  them  as  we  ought,  as 
these  passages  in  the  Bible,  which  teach  us  that 
all  good  thoughts,  counsels,  just  works,  come  from 
the  Spirit  of  God,  and,  at  the  same  time,  that  we 
are  in  the  most  imminent  peril,  at  every  moment, 
of  turning  the  divine  suggestions  into  sin,  -by 
allowing  our  selfish  and  impure  conceits  and  rash 
generalizations  to  mix  with  them. 

We  have  seen  that  the  life  of  David  is  the  life 
neither  of  a  mere  official,  fulfilling  a  purpose  in 
which  he  has  no  interest,  nor  of  a  hero  without 
fear  and  without  reproach ;  but  of  a  man  inspired 
by  a  divine  purpose,  under  the  guidance  of  a 
divine  teacher,  liable  to  all  ordinary  errors,  as 
likely  as  any  of  us  to  fall  into  great  sins.  The 
interest  we  feel  in  him  is  strong  and  personal.  It 
is  not  won  from  us  by  a  single  exaggeration  of 
his  merits,  by  the  least  attempt  to  surround  him 
with  some  unnatural  halo  of  glory.  We  should 
have  wished,  perhaps,  to  see  his  sun  setting  with 
peculiar  splendor,  to  be  told  of  some  great  acts, 
or  hear  some  noble  words,  which  would  assure  us 
that  he  died  a  saint.  The  Bible  does  not  in  the 
least  satisfy  this  expectation.  It  represents  him 
in  the  bodily  feebleness,  in  something  like  the 
dotage,  of  old  age.  The  last  sentences  which  are 
reported  of  him  concern  the  after  administration 


THE  BIBLE.  297 

of  his  son's  kingdom,  and  the  punishment  of 
some  of  his  mischievous  subjects.  Of  all  his 
words,  they  are,  perhaps,  those  which  we  the  least 
care  to  remember.  We  must  turn  elsewhere  than 
to  the  books  of  the  Old  or  of  the  New  Testament 
for  death-bed  scenes.  One  beautiful  record  of  the 
first  deacon  of  the  Church,  who  prayed  for  his 
countrymen,  "  Lord,  lay  not  this  sin  to  their 
charge,"  is  all  that  we  have  of  martyrology  in  the 
Bible.  Its  warriors  fight  the  good  fight.  We 
know  that  in  some  battle  or  other  they  finish  their 
course.  Where,  or  how,  under  what  circumstan- 
ces of  humiliation  or  triumph,  we  are  not  told. 
If  it  pleased  God  that  their  lamp  should  shine 
out  brightly  at  the  last,  that  was  well,  for  he  was 
glorified  in  their  strength.  If  it  pleased  him  that 
the  light  should  sink  and  go  out  in  its  socket, 
that  was  well  too,  for  he  was  glorified  in  their 
weakness.  Not  by  momentary  flashes  does  God 
bid  us  judge  of  our  fellow-creatures ;  for  He  who 
reads  the  heart,  and  sees  the  meaning  and  pur- 
pose of  it,  judges  not  of  them  by  these.  And 
never  be  it  forgotten,  that  at  the  death  which  has 
redeemed  all  other  deaths  and  made  them  blessed, 
there  was  darkness  over  all  the  land  until  the 
ninth  hour,  and  that  a  cry  came  out  of  the  dark- 
ness, "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me?" 

If  you  would  judge  of  David,  of  what  he  was, 


298       THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

and  what  he  looked  for,  let  this  Psalm  be  your 
guide.  "  Give  the  king  thy  judgments,  0  God  ! 
and  thy  righteousness  unto  the  king's  son.  He 
shall  judge  thy  people  with  righteousness,  and  the 
poor  with  judgment.  He  shall  save  the  children 
of  the  needy,  and  shall  break  in  pieces  the  oppres- 
sor. He  shall  redeem  their  souls  from  deceit  and 
violence,  and  precious  shall  their  blood  be  in  his 
sight.  There  shall  be  an  handful  of  corn  in  the 
earth  upon  the  top  of  the  mountains  ;  the  fruit 
thereof  shall  shake  like  Lebanon ;  and  they  of 
the  city  shall  flourish  like  grass  of  the  earth. 
His  name  shall  endure  for  ever,  his  name  shall  be 
continued  as  long  as  the  sun,  and  men  shall  be 
blessed  in  him.  All  nations  shall  call  him  bless- 
ed. Blessed  be  the  Lord  God,  the  God  of  Israel, 
who  only  doeth  wondrous  things,  and  blessed  be 
his  glorious  name  for  ever,  and  let  the  whole- 
earth  be  filled  with  his  glory.  The  prayers  of 
David,  the  son  of  Jesse,  are  ended." 

And  with  that  aspiration  and  hope,  brethren, 
may  our  prayers  be  ended.  May  it  be  the  busi- 
ness of  our  lives  to  testify,  that  there  is  a  right- 
eous kingdom  established  upon  the  earth,  and 
that  God  has  set  it  up,  and  that  his  Son,  who  has 
made  himself  one  with  all  poor  and  suffering  men, 
is  at  the  head  of  it ;  and  that  it  shall  prevail  over 
all  oppression  and  violence ;  and  that  all  nations 
shall  be  blessed  by  it.     Let  us  grapple  this  faith 


THE   BIBLE.  299 

to  our  inmost  souls  now,  when  men  think,  and 
openly  proclaim,  that  law  and  order  are  based 
not  on  the  will  and  mind  of  a  gracious  God,  who 
cares  for  his  creatures,  but  are  to  be  the  tools  and 
servants  of  a  grasping  Mammon ;  now,  when  we 
have  proofs  openly  before  our  eyes  how  that  low, 
grovelling,  godless  conviction  leads  at  last  to  the 
trampling  down  of  all  law,  to  the  setting  up  of 
the  most  hateful  lawless  tyranny.  Let  us  not 
merely  detest  such  outrages  upon  God's  order, 
but  scorn  them  as  essentially  weak,  as  predestined 
to  destruction,  however  for  a  time  he  may  per- 
mit them  for  the  chastisement  of  the  sins  and 
idolatries  of  other  nations,  nay,  even  if  he  should 
see  fit  to  use  them  for  the  chastisement  of  our 
own.  "  Rest  in  the  Lord,  and  wait  patiently  for 
him :  fret  not  thyself  because  of  him  who  pros- 
pereth  in  his  way,  because  of  the  man  who  bring- 
eth  wicked  devices  to  pass.  Cease  from  anger, 
and  forsake  wrath  ;  fret  not  thyself  in  any  wise 
to  do  evil.  For  evil-doers  shall  be  cut  off;  but 
those  that  wait  upon  the  Lord,  they  shall  inherit 
the  earth.  For  yet  a  little  while,  and  the  wicked 
shall  not  be  :  yea,  thou  shalt  diligently  consider 
his  place,  and  it  shall  not  be.  But  the  meek  shall 
inherit  the  earth ;  and  shall  delight  themselves  in 
the  abundance  of  peace." 


300  THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

Anna  read  me  a  translation  of  a  German  hymn 
that  pleased  her,  and  afterwards  we  read  togeth- 
er some  favorite  extracts  of -mine. 

A  HYMN.* 

FKOM  THE  GERMAN. 

On  God,  and  not  on  my  poor  strength, 

Will  I  my  hopes  repose, 
And  trust  the  Power  who  made  me  first, 
And  all  my  weakness  knows. 
He  who  the  world 
Guides  on  its  way, 
Will  help  me  bear 
My  burdened  day. 

From  all  eternity  He  saw 

How  sore  my  needs  would  be, 
His  power  could  fix  my  term  of  life 
My  joys  and  burdens  see. 
What  says  my  Lord  ? 
Is  there  a  grief 
Where  love  and  faith 
Bring  no  relief  ? 

God  knows  whate'er  my  heart  desires 

Before  it  is  expressed, 
And  grants  the  boon,  unuttered  still, 

If  wisdom  sees  it  best. 

*  Gellert. 


THE   BIBLE.  301 

Most  fatherly- 
He  heeds  his  Son ; 
Then,  not  my  will, 
But  thine,  be  done ! 

Is  not  unbroken  happiness 
Often  more  hard  to  bear, 
Than  what  we  call  life's  sorest  ills, 
Privation,  grief,  and  care  ? 
Our  greatest  needs 
All  end  with  death  ; 
,     Earth's  honors  fly 
With  our  last  breath. 

The  gifts  which  make  us  truly  blest 

To  all  alike  are  given, 
While  outward  goods,  health,  fortune,  wealth, 
Make  not  the  soul  a  heaven. 
He  who  God's  word 
Keeps  still  in  view, 
With  conscience  pure, 
Gilds  trouble  too. 

What  is  life's  brightest,  glorious  hour  ? 

Fading,  when  brightest  burning  ! 
What  are  its  sorest,  bitterest  griefs  ? 
How  soon  to  blessings  turning ! 
Hope  in  the  Lord, 
His  aid  is  nigh ; 
Rejoice,  ye  saints, 
He  hears  your  cry. 
26 


302  THE  SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 


EXTRACTS  FROM  SERMONS  OF    F.    W.  ROBERTSON. 

What  is  your  religion  ?  Excitability,  romance, 
impression,  fear  ?  Remember,  excitement  has 
its  uses,  impression  has  its  value.  John,  in  all 
circumstances  of  his  appearance  and  style  of 
teaching,  impressed  by  excitement.  Excitement, 
warmed  feelings,  make  the  first  actings  of  relig- 
ious life  and  the  breaking  of  inveterate  habits 
easier.  But  excitement  and  impression  are  not 
religion.  Neither  can  you  trust  to  the  alarm 
produced  by  the  thought  of  eternal  retribution. 
Ye  that  have  been  impressed,  beware  how  you 
let  those  impressions  die  away.  Die  they  will, 
and  must ;  we  cannot  live  in  excitement  for  ever ; 
but  beware  of  their  leaving  behind  them  noth- 
ing except  a  languid,  jaded  heart.  If  God  ever 
gave  you  the  excitements  of  religion,  breaking  in 
upon  the  monotony,  as  John's  teaching  broke  in 
upon  that  of  Jerusalem,  take  care.  There  is  no 
restoring  of  elasticity  to  the  spring  that  has  been 
over  bent.  Let  impression  pass  on  at  once  to 
acting. 

It  is  a  perilous  thing  to  separate  feeling  from 
acting ;  to  have  learnt  to  feel  rightly,  without 
acting  rightly.  It  is  a  danger  to  which,  in  a  re- 
fined and  polished  age,  we  are  peculiarly  exposed. 
The  romance,  the  poem,  and  the  sermon  teach 


THE   BIBLE.  303 

us  how  to  feel.  Our  feelings  are  delicately  cor- 
rect. But  the  danger  is  this; — feeling  is  given 
to  lead  to  action ;  if  feeling  be  suffered  to  awake 
without  passing  into  duty,  the  character  becomes 
untrue.  When  the  emergency  for  real  action 
comes,  the  feeling  is,  as  usual,  produced;  but 
accustomed  as  it  is  to  rise  in  fictitious  circum- 
stances without  action,  neither  will  it  lead  on  to 
action  in  the  real  ones.  "  We  pity  wretchedness 
and  shun  the  wretched."  We  utter  sentiments 
just,  honorable,  refined,  lofty,  —  but  somehow, 
when  a  truth  presents  itself  in  the  shape  of  a 
duty,  we  are  unable  to  perform  it.  And  so,  such 
characters  become  by  degrees  like  the  artificial 
pleasure-grounds  of  bad  taste,  in  which  the  water- 
fall does  not  fall,  and  the  grotto  offers  only  the 
refreshment  of  an  imaginary  shade,  and  the  green 
hill  does  not  strike  the  skies,  and  the  tree  does  not 
grow ;  their  lives  are  a  sugared  crust  of  sweet- 
ness trembling  over  black  depths  of  hollowness ; 
more  truly  still,  "  whited  sepulchres,"  —  fair 
without  to  look  upon,  "  within  full  of  all  un- 
cleanness." 

It  is  perilous,  again,  to  separate  thinking  right- 
ly from  acting.  He  is  already  half  false  who 
speculates  on  truth,  and  does  not  do  it.  Truth 
is  given,  not  to  be  contemplated,  but  to  be  done. 
Life  is  an  action,  not  a  thought.  And  the  pen- 
alty paid  by  him  who  speculates  on  truth  is  that 


304  THE   SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

by  degrees  the  very  truth  he  holds  becomes  to 
him  a  falsehood. 

There  is  no  truthfulness,  therefore,  except  in 
the  witness  borne  to  God  by  doing  his  will,  —  to 
live  the  truths  we  hold,  or  else  they  will  be  no 
truths  at  all. 


Sweet  are  the  tears  that  from  a  Howard's  eye 

Drop  on  the  cheek  of  one  he  lifts  from  earth ; 

And  he  who  works  me  good  with  unmoved  face, 

Does  it  but  half;  he  chills  me,  while  he  aids, 

My  benefactor,  not  my  brother  man. 

But  even  this,  this  cold  benevolence, 

Seems  worth,  seems  manhood,  when  there  rise  before  me 

The  sluggard  pity's  vision-weaving  tribe, 

Who  sigh  for  wretchedness  yet  shun  the  wretched, 

Nursing  in  some  delicious  solitude 

Their  slothful  loves  and  dainty  sympathies. 

S.  T.   Coleridge. 

There  is  a  strange  inconsistency  in  the  human 
mind,  which  leads  men  to  scrutinize  with  sever- 
ity the  secrets  of  their  fellow-creatures,  souls, 
which  it  is  impossible  they  should  ever  clearly 
discover ;  while  they  neglect  to  examine  and 
probe  into  the  springs  of  their  own  conduct, 
which  if  they  do  not,  they  certainly  ought  to 
know.  The  first  they  are  forbidden,  and  the  sec- 
ond they  are  commanded  to  do.  —  St.  Francis 
de  Sales. 


THE   BIBLE.  305 

In  one  of  the  lower  heavens  Dante  asks  of 
some  spirits  whom  he  meets,  if  they  are  happy 
here,  or  do  they  desire  a  higher  place,  to  see 
more  or  to  make  more  friends.  "  Among  these 
shades  there  was  first  a  little  smiling ;  then  one 
replied  so  joyous  that  she  seemed  to  burn  with 
the  intensest  fire  of  love,  Brother,  our  will  rests 
on  the  virtue  of  love,  that  makes  us  wish  for 
only  what  we  have,  and  is  satisfied  with  nothing 
else." 

"  All  things,"  says  Hooker,  "  (God  only  except- 
ed,) besides  the  nature  which  they  have  in  them- 
selves, receive  externally  some  perfection  from 
other  things."  Hence  the  appearance  of  separa- 
tion or  isolation  in  anything,  and  of  self-depend- 
ence, is  an  appearance  of  imperfection  ;  and  all 
appearances  of  connection  and  brotherhood  are 
pleasant  and  right,  both  as  significative  of  perfec- 
tion in  the  things  united,  and  as  typical  of  that 
unity  which  we  attribute  to  God,  —  that  unity 
which  consists  not  in  his  own  singleness  or  sep- 
aration, but  in  the  necessity  of  his  inherence  in 
all  things  that  be,  without  which  no  creature  of 
any  kind  could  hold  existence  for  a  moment. 
Which  necessity  of  divine  essence  I  think  it  bet- 
ter to  speak  of  as  comprehensiveness,  than  as 
unity,  because  unity  is  often  understood  in  the 
sense  of  oneness  and  singleness,  instead  of  uni- 

26* 


306  THE  SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

versality,  whereas  the  only  unity  which  by  any 
means  can  become  grateful  or  an  object  of  hope 
to  men,  and  whose  types  therefore  in  material 
things  can  be  beautiful,  is  that  on  which  turned 
the  last  words  and  prayer  of  Christ  before  his 
crossing  of  the  Kidron  brook.  "  Neither  pray  I 
for  these  alone,  but  for  them  also  which  shall  be- 
lieve on  me  through  their  word.  That  they  all 
may  be  one,  as  thou,  Father,  art  in  me,  and  I  in 
thee." 

And  so  there  is  not  any  matter,  nor  any  spirit, 
nor  any  creature,  but  it  is  capable  of  a  unity  of 
some  kind  with  other  creatures,  and  in  that  unity 
is  its  perfection  and  theirs,  and  a  pleasure  also, 
for  the  beholding  of  all  other  creatures  that  can 
behold.  So  the  unity  of  spirits  is  partly  in  their 
sympathy,  and  partly  in  their  giving  and  taking, 
and  always  in  their  love  ;  and  these  are  their  de- 
light and  their  strength,  for  their  strength  is  in 
their  co-working  and  their  fellowship,  and  their 
delight  is  in  the  giving  and  receiving  of  alternate 
and  perpetual  currents  of  good,  their  inseparable 
dependency  on  each  other's  being,  and  their  es- 
sential and  perfect  depending  on  their  Creator's  ; 
and  so  the  unity  of  earthly  creatures  is  their 
power  and  their  peace,  not  like  the  dead  and  cold 
peace  of  undisturbed  stones  and  solitary  moun- 
tains, but  the  living  peace  of  trust,  and  the  living 
power  of  support,  of  hands  that  hold  each  other 


THE   BIBLE.  307 

and  are  still ;  and  so  the  unity  of  matter  is,  in 
its  noblest  form,  the  organization  of  it  which 
builds  it  up  into  temples  for  the  spirit,  and  in  its 
lower  form,  the  sweet  and  strange  affinity  which 
gives  to  it  the  glory  of  its  orderly  elements,  and 
the  fair  variety  of  change  and  assimilation  that 
turns  the  dust  into  the  crystal,  and  separates  the 
waters  that  be  above  the  firmament  from  the 
waters  that  be  beneath ;  and  in  its  lowest  form,  it 
is  the  working  and  walking  and  clinging  together, 
that  gives  their  power  to  the  winds,  and  its  sylla- 
bles and  soundings  to  the  air,  and  their  weight 
to  the  waves,  and  their  burning  to  the  sunbeams, 
and  their  stability  to  the  mountains,  and  to  every 
creature  whatsoever  operation  is  for  its  glory  and 
for  others'  good. 

There  is  the  unity  of  different  and  separate 
things,  subjected  to  one  and  the  same  influence, 
which  may  be  called  subjectional  unity,  and  this 
is  the  unity  of  clouds,  as  they  are  driven  by  the 
parallel  winds,  or  as  they  are  ordered  by  the 
electric  currents,  and  this  the  unity  of  the  sea  and 
waves,  and  this  of  the  bending  and  undulation 
of  the  forest  masses,  and  in  creatures  capable  of 
will  it  is  the  unity  of  will  or  of  inspiration.  And 
there  is  unity  of  origin,  which  we  may  call  origi- 
nal unity,  which  is  of  things  arising  from  one 
spring  and  source,  and  speaking  always  of  this 
their  brotherhood,  and  this  in  matter  is  the  unity 


308  THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

of  the  branches  of  the  trees,  and  of  the  petals  and 
starry  rays  of  flowers,  and  of  the  beams  of  light, 
and  in  spiritual  creatures  it  is  their  filial  relation 
to  Him  from  whom  they  have  their  being.  And 
there  is  unity  of  sequence,  which  is  that  of  things 
that  form  links  in  chains,  and  steps  in  ascent, 
and  stages  in  journeys,  and  this,  in  matter,  is 
the  unity  of  communicable  forces  in  their  contin- 
uance from  one  thing  to  another,  and  it  is  the 
passing  upwards  and  downwards  of  beneficent 
effects  among  all  things.  And  it  is  the  melody 
of  sounds,  and  the  beauty  of  continuous  lines, 
and  the  orderly  succession  of  motions  and  times. 
And  in  spiritual  creatures  it  is  their  own  con- 
stant building  up  by  true  knowledge  and  con- 
tinuous reasoning  to  higher  perfection,  and  the 
singleness  and  straightforwardness  of  their  ten- 
dencies to  more  complete  communion  with  God. 
And  there  is  the  unity  of  membership,  which  we 
may  call  essential  unity,  which  is  the  unity  of 
things  separately  imperfect  into  a  perfect  whole, 
and  this  is  the  great  unity  of  which  other  unities 
are  but  parts  and  means  ;  it  is  in  matter  the  har- 
mony of  sounds  and  consistency  of  bodies,  and 
among  spiritual  creatures,  their  love  and  happi- 
ness and  very  life  in  God.  —  Ruskin. 


THE   BIBLE.  309 


THE   OLD   TESTAMENT.* 

The  Psalms  (or,  according  to  the  Hebrew  title, 
the  Book  of  Hymns)  are  a  collection  of  songs, 
some  shorter,  some  longer,  written  by  very  differ- 
ent authors,  and  at  very  different  times,  all  ar- 
ranged to  be  sung  or  recited  with  a  musical 
cadence.  The  titles  of  the  several  Psalms  can 
scarcely  have  anything  to  do  with  their  authors, 
but  must  have  been  added  by  others,  since  there 
is  sometimes  an  error  observable  in  them.  One 
Psalm,  the  ninetieth,  is  ascribed  to  Moses,  but 
certainly  erroneously.  Seventy-two  Psalms  are 
attributed  to  David,  among  which  are  some  that 
were  written  much  later.  David  was  a  poet  and 
a  musician,  and  after  he  became  king,  he  set 
apart,  as  we  read  in  1  Chronicles,  chap,  xxv.,  two 
hundred  and  eighty-eight  persons  for  singers 
in  the  house  of  the  Lord.  They  were  placed 
under  three  leaders,  Asaph,  Jeduthun,  and  He- 
man.  The  king,  Jehoshaphat,  was  also  a  lover 
of  temple  music  (2  Chronicles  xx.  18-21).  In 
his  time  a  part  of  the  singers  were  called,  from 
their  master,  the  sons,  that  is,  the  scholars,  of  Ko- 
ran, to  whom  eleven  Psalms  are  ascribed,  while 
to  Asaph  twelve  Psalms  are   attributed.      The 

*  From  Die  religiose  Glaubenslekre,  by  Dr.  K.  G.  Bretschneider. 


310       THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

word  Selah,  which  occurs  fifty-one  times,  is  not 
a  Hebrew  word,  but  a  musical  sign  for  the  use 
of  the  singers,  written  with  letters  (S  L  H),  by 
which,  it  is  supposed,  a  mark  of  repetition  is  de- 
noted. The  expression  "  a  song  of  degrees,"  is 
a  Hebrew  one,  meaning  either  a  song  sung  on 
*  the  way  up  to  the  temple,  or  a  hymn  in  a  certain 
rhythm.  The  Psalms,  considered  as  poems,  have 
mostly  a  high  poetic  worth,  and  are  especially 
valued  because  they  all  have  a  religious  charac- 
ter, and  all  have  reference  to  God  both  in  nature 
and  human  life.  As  they  are  mostly  effusions  of 
earnest  religious  feelings,  they  are  also  fitted  to 
awaken  these  feelings  in  others.  They  have, 
therefore,  always  been  considered  as  consecrated 
songs  in  the  Christian  world,  and  are  still  so 
held,  and  deserve  to  be.  For  proof  of  this,  read 
Psalms  i.,  ii.,  viii.,  xxii.,  xxiii.,  xxix.,  xlii., 
xliii.,  xlv.,  1.,  Ii.,  lxv.,  lxxxiv.,  xc,  xci.,  civ., 
cxviii.,  cxxi.,  cxxvi.,  cxxviii.,  cxxxix.,  cxlvi.,  and 
others.  But  not  everything  expressed  in  the 
Psalms  is  suitable  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity. 
Since  they  come  down  from  a  time  of  an  incom- 
plete revelation,  it  should  not  surprise  us  that 
they  express  at  times  views,  feelings,  wishes,  and 
prayers  in  which  the  Christian  cannot  share, 
where,  for  example,  hatred  towards  the  heathen 
and  enemies  is  required,  such  as  Psalms  ii.  9, 
v.  10,  vi.  10,  ix.  15,  xxxv.  1-8,  xlvii.  3,  4,  lix, 
14  - 16,  cxxxvii.  7-9,  cxlix.  7-9,  etc. 


THE   BIBLE.  311 

The  Proverbs  follow  the  Psalms,  a  collection  of 
wise  sayings  in  short  sentences  which  were  col- 
lected and  pnt  together  by  one  of  the  Jewish 
Rabbins.  The  compiler  of  their  writings  says 
himself,  chap.  i.  1,  that  this  is  a  collection  of  the 
sayings  of  Solomon ;  but  as  he  repeats  this  su- 
perscription, x.  1,  xxv.  1,  it  is  evident  that  he  has 
presented  three  collections  of  wise  sayings,  which 
were  ascribed  to  Solomon.  He  adds,  in  chap. 
xxx.*  and  xxxi.,  the  sayings  of  other  wise  men. 
History  testifies  authentically  that  Solomon  was 
renowned  for  his  wise  sayings.  It  may  be  doubt- 
ful whether  he  had  anything  to  do  with  writing 
down  these  proverbs  himself,  but  it  is  not  to 
be  doubted  that  others,  from  the  admiration  be- 
stowed upon  Solomon's  wisdom,  certainly  began 
early  to  collect  the  sayings  attributed  to  him. 
Thus  can  be  explained  the  three  collections  of 
proverbs  of  Solomon,  which  we  here  find  united. 
Whether  ihey  all  came  from  the  mouth  of  Solo- 
mon, and  exactly  as  we  read  them,  cannot  be 
ascertained.  It  does  not  affect  their  value,  that 
Solomon  in  his  later  years  gave  himself  up  to  the 
worship  of  idols,  for  with  regard  to  their  worth 
for  us,  we  nlust  decide  from  the  contents  of  the 
Proverbs,  especially  in  their  religious  connection. 
Their  contents  are  in  part  moral  teachings,  in  part 
prudent  admonitions.  Although  they  contain 
much  that  is  noble,  instructive,  and  true,  they  must 


312  THE   SIXTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

still  be  read  and  used  by  the  Christian  with  wis- 
dom, that  is,  with  constant  reference  to  the  more 
complete  moral  teachings  of  Christ.  For  they 
come  to  us  from  a  time  when  the  idea  of  the 
divine  law  was  but  imperfectly  developed,  and  the 
knowledge  of  mankind  and  the  world  was  lim- 
ited. See  chap.  i.  26,  ii.  21,  22,  x.  27,  xxxi.  6,  7. 
In  the  order  pursued  in  the  Hebrew  Bible,  the 
Book  of  Job  follows.  It  is  still  uncertain  in  what 
century  this  was  written,  or  who  was  its  author. 
Job  is  here  described  as  an  Arab  Emir.  Since 
the  Arabs  place  the  name  of  Job  among  their 
holy  men,  there  must  be  some  true  history  in  the 
book ;  for  instance,  Job,  although  he  was  pious 
and  guiltless,  was  attacked  by  a  series  of  painful 
misfortunes.  The  account  of  these  given  in  the 
first  chapter  was  probably  handed  down  by  oral 
tradition.  But  this  historical  point  is  a  mere 
secondary  consideration,  for  the  book  is  through- 
out an  instructive  poem  upon  the  question 
whether  it  fares  well  in  the  world  with  the  good 
and  the  guiltless,  or  worse  than  with  the  bad  ? 
This  question  is  treated  in  the  conversations  with 
Job  and  his  friends,  which  form  the  principal 
part  of  the  book.  The  three  friends  proceed 
wholly  upon  the  idea,  frequent  among  the  Jews 
and  constantly  expressed  in  the  Old  Testament, 
that  misfortunes  must  necessarily  be  divine  pun- 
ishments, and  they  consider,  therefore,  that  Job 


THE   BIBLE.  313 

deceives  himself,  or  dissembles,  when  he  holds 
himself  as  guiltless,  or  that,  at  least,  he  must 
have  secret  sins  that  God  is  visiting  upon  him. 
Job,  on  the  other  hand,  asserts  firmly  his  com- 
plete innocence,  and  the  purity  of  his  life.  The 
contest  is  brought  to  a  close  in  an  answer  from 
God,  which  declares  that  man  is  much  too  weak 
to  apprehend  the  wisdom  and  justice  of  God's 
providence,  but  that,  if  he  cannot  comprehend 
this  wisdom,  he  must  believe  it,  since  it  is  so 
manifestly  proved  in  the  world  of  nature  and 
man ;  that  Job  has  failed  in  this,  since  he  has 
charged  God  with  injustice,  and  has  not  submit- 
ted to  his  trials  with  resignation  ;  and  that  the 
three  friends  (chap.  xlii.  7)  have  not  spoken 
rightly  towards  God,  and  have  made  themselves 
displeasing  to  him.  Hence  it  appears,  that  the 
author  of  this  book  himself  shows  that  the  words 
he  has  placed  in  the  mouth  of  the  three  friends 
are  erroneous,  and  therefore  the  Christian  reader 
must  be  careful  not  to  seek  for  universal  truths 
in  the  words  of  the  three  friends,  nor  consider 
them  as  divine  teachings. 

The  Song  of  Songs,  which  is  ascribed  to  Solo- 
mon, follows  the  Book  of  Job.  It  is  a  little  col- 
lection of  songs  of  high  poetic  beauty,  but  which, 
as  is  betrayed  by  the  idioms  of  a  later  time  occur- 
ring in  it,  cannot  have  been  by  Solomon.  The 
compiler  of  the  Old  Testament  placed  these  songs 

27 


314  THE   SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

in  the  third  portion  of  the  national  writings,  and 
accepted  them,  though  their  contents  lacked  the 
religious  element,  either  because,  as  remains  of 
so  highly  honored  a  king  as  Solomon,  they  ought 
not  to  perish,  or  because  they  represented,  in  a 
pictorial  sense,  the  love  of  Jehovah  for  the  Jew- 
ish people  ;  a  representation  which  in  the  exam- 
ple of  the  prophets  was  already  prevalent.  Since 
the  connection  between  God  and  Israel  reached 
its  issue  in  Christianity,  this  connection  itself,  in 
so  far  as  it  relates  to  the  history  of  revelation, 
is  ended  in  the  Old  Testament.  Therefore  this 
Song,  since  it  wants  the  religious  element,  is  not 
available  for  Christian  edification.  The  symbolic 
conception,  by  which  Christian  readers  would  ex- 
plain these  love-songs  as  between  Christ  and  the 
Church,  his  bride,  is  far  too  artificial  and  unnat- 
ural to  be  of  any  advantage  to  piety. 

Ecclesiastes,  or  the  Preacher,  is  not  written  by 
Solomon,  for  its  language  is  of  a  later  idiom, 
•which  is  first  found  in  the  time  of  the  captivity, 
and  its  contents  betray  an  acquaintance  with  the 
Greek  philosophy,  which  the  Jews  first  learnt  to 
know  after  the  captivity,  and  which  holds  that 
the  wisest  manner  of  living  lies  in  a  gay  enjoy- 
ment of  the  moment,  and  of  the  present,  without 
questioning  the  future  or  bemoaning  the  past. 
The  main  points  are  :  —  All  things  are  vain  and 
transitory,  even  the  joys  and  the  goods  of  life,  as 


THE  BIBLE.  315 

well  as  care  for  the  future,  and  all  wisdom  and 
splendor.  It  is  the  same  with  the  good  as  with 
the  bad,  with  the  just  as  the  unjust,  with  men  as 
with  beasts,  all  will  in  the  same  way  be  swallowed 
up  by  the  grave.  "  Behold,"  says  the  preach- 
er, "  that  which  I  have  seen :  it  is  good  and 
comely  for  one  to  eat  and  to  drink,  and  to  enjoy 
the  good  of  all  his  labor  that  he  taketh  under  the 
sun  all  the  days  of  his  life,  which  God  giveth 
him  ;  for  it  is  his  portion.  Every  man  also  to 
whom  God  hath  given  riches  and  wealth,  and 
hath  given  him  power  to  eat  thereof,  and  to  take 
his  portion,  and  to  rejoice  in  his  labor ;  this  is 
the  gift  of  God.  For  he  shall  not  much  remem- 
ber the  days  of  his  life  ;  because  God  answereth 
him  in  the  joy  of  his  heart."  (Chap.  v.  18- 
20.)  The  whole  book  shows  a  heart  utterly 
wrong  towards  God  and  froward  to  his  rule,  un- 
acquainted with  the  wisdom  and  justice  of  des- 
tiny, and  its  complaints  of  the  vanity  of  earthly 
life  rise  from  the  want  of  the  great  idea  of  re- 
ligion, from  its  ignorance  of  immortality.  This 
the  writer  shows  plainly  (chap.  iii.  20-  22),  and 
the  expression  (chap.  xii.  7),  that  the  spirit  shall 
return,  in  death,  to  the  God  who  gave  it,  sug- 
gests no  knowledge  of  immortality,  but  rather 
supposes  the  return  of  that  breath  of  life  with 
which  God  has  animated  the  body  into  the  es- 
sence of  God.     This  book,  written  at  the  close  of 


V 

316  THE   SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

the  Old  Testament  revelation,  is,  therefore,  a 
sign  of  the  great  need  of  a  revelation  of  the  idea 
of  immortality,  or  the  need  there  was  in  the  hu- 
man heart  for  Christianity.  For  this  idea  not 
only  solves  the  riddle  of  human  life,  but  displays 
to  us  rich  treasures,  which  elevate  the  spirit  as 
well  as  make  it  happy.  The  Christian,  therefore, 
when  he  reads  Ecclesiastes,  must  always  remem- 
ber how  much  happier  he  is  as  a  Christian  than 
this  wise  man  of  olden  time,  for  Christianity 
has  solved  for  him  the  riddle  that  so  easily  led 
into  sadness  and  error  the  spirit  of  wise  men, 
before  the  days  of  Christ.  We  can  see  that  the 
philosophy  presented  in  Ecclesiastes  was  found 
among  the  Jews  of  Alexandria  after  the  captiv- 
ity, from  the  book  of  the  Wisdom  of  Solomon, 
supposed  even  by  them  to'  be  apocryphal,  where 
(chap.  ii.  1-9)  the  same  opinions  with  regard  to 
earthly  life  are  expressed,  but  are  there  combat- 
ed. It  appears  plainly  that  the  book  of  the  Wis- 
dom of  Solomon  was  written  to  oppose  that  of 
Ecclesiastes,  which  the  Jews  themselves  hesitated 

to  read  in  their  synagogues 

The  highest  and  the  only  religious  point  of 
view  in  which  the  Old  Testament  can  and  should 
be  considered,  is  this ;  that  it  contains  the  his- 
tory of  the  divine  revelation  of  religious  ideas ; 
that  it  shows  when  and  through  whom  there  en- 
tered into  the  consciousness  of  mankind  the  first 


THE   BIBLE.  317 

ideas  of  religion,  with  regard  to  God,  his  relation 
to  the  world,  his  laws,  and  a  reverence  for  him ; 
and  through  what  means  they  were  upheld  and 
cultivated,  and  how  in  the  course  of  time  they 
were  developed,  as  far  down  as  the  Christian  era. 
The  principal  thing  that  concerns  us  in  the  Old 
Testament,  therefore,  is  what  belongs  to  the  his- 
tory of  the  rise  and  development  of  religious 
ideas  ;  but  much  else  which  appears  in  the  Old 
Testament  is  of  secondary  importance,  however 
weighty  it  might  appear  to  the  Jewish  nation. 
All  that  is  most  important  to  the  Christian, 
which  has  served  as  foundation  and  introduction 
to  Christianity,  we  find  in  the  Mosaic  writings, 
and  in  the  Prophets,  to  which  the  Psalms,  the 
Book  of  Job,  and  the  Proverbs  may  be  added. 
It  is  also  the  inner  history  of  the  gradual  illumi- 
nation of  the  spirit  of  man  by  God,  which  the 
Christian  must  heed,  as  appertaining  to  revelation. 
But  the  external  history  of  men  and  nations, 
of  the  people  of  Israel  themselves,  is  to  be  con- 
sidered as  a  part  of  the  general  history  of  the 
world  and  of  nations,  and  has  no  closer  connec- 
tion with  religion  or  with  revelation.  It  is  an 
historic  relation  which  stands  on  the  same  line  as 
other  historical  narratives  of  the  olden  times,  and 
is  to  be  estimated  by  the  same  measures.  To  this 
belongs  the  history  of  remote  antiquity,  and  the 
first  spread  of  mankind  in  Genesis,  the  history  of 

27* 


318       THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

the  departure  of  the  Israelites  from  Egypt,  their 
conquest  of  Palestine,  (the  Book  of  Joshua,)  and 
the  further  outer  development  of  the  Israelitish 
government  (the  Book  of  Judges,  the  Books  of 
Samuel,  of  the  Kings,  of  the  Chronicles,  Ezra,  Ne- 
hemiah,  and  Esther).  Although  the  history  re- 
lated in  the  Old  Testament  possesses  a  peculiar 
character,  because  all  the  events  that  occur  to  the 
nation,  and  all  the  political  regulations  and  meas- 
ures, are  supposed  to  proceed  from  Jehovah,  and 
to  follow  his  command,  yet  this  part,  as  has  al- 
ready been  expressed,  is  only  a  form  of  concep- 
tion arising  from  the  nature  of  a  theocratic  state 
government,  which  can  offer  no  religious  dogmas 
for  Christians. 

From  what  has  been  said  of  the  necessary  con- 
nection of  religious  ideas  with  the  existing  knowl- 
edge of  the  world,  and  the  gradual  progress  of 
the  development  of  ideas,  the  religious  element 
in  the  Old  Testament  must  be  recognized  as  in- 
complete and  limited,  from  the  very  meagre  state 
of  knowledge  existing  in  the  world.  We,  as 
Christians,  since  we  have  the  full  light  of  revela- 
tion, are  not  obliged  to  take  into  our  minds  these 
limitations  and  deficiencies,  but  must  consider 
them  as  unavoidable,  compelled  by  the  state  of 
human  culture  at  that  early  time,  while  we  are 
better  informed  by  the  Christian  revelation.  All 
the  religious  elements  of  the  Old  Testament  must 


THE   BIBLE.  319 

be  compared  with  the  Christian  measure, — its 
conceptions  of  God,  of  creation,  of  the  govern- 
ment of  the  world,  the  law  of  God  and  the  king- 
dom of  God,  and  our  durance  after  death.  And 
it  must  be  always  remembered,  that  the  Old  Tes- 
tament contains  only  the  foundation  of  true  re- 
ligion ;  its  outer  walls  and  its  inner  temple  were 
finished  by  Christ.  It  was  a  mistake  when  men 
looked  upon  the  entirely  external  history  of  the 
world,  of  Israel  and  other  nations,  related  in  the 
Old  Testament,  as  a  revelation,  and  would  fain 
make  the  incomplete  forms  in  which  the  elements 
of  religion  present  themselves  articles  of  faith  for 
the  Christian  world. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  were  wholly  a  false  pro- 
cedure, for  the  opponent  of  revelation  to  take 
occasion,  from  these  narratives  of  external  history, 
and  from  the  yet  deficient  form  of  the  religious 
element,  to  inveigh  against  the  Old  Testament, 
and  make  little  account  of  it  as  a  record  of  rev- 
elation. This  external  history  appears  nowhere 
in  the  Old  Testament  as  a  revelation,  but  through- 
out as  a  human  historical  narrative  ;  and  the  still 
incomplete  form  of  the  religious  element  was,  as 
we  have  seen,  a  necessity,  which  was  unavoidable 
in  those  remote  ages,  and  which  even  bears  witness 
to  the  great  age.and  truth  of  this  earliest  illumi- 
nation of  the  spirit  of  man. 


320       THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

THE  WAY,  THE  TRUTH,  AND  THE  LIFE. 

We  complain,  often,  that  there  are  so  many  ways 
that  we  cannot  find  which  is  the  right  one.  Every 
hour  brings  up  new  duties  which  cannot  all  be 
performed,  but  from  which  we  must  choose  one, 
and  we  do  not  know  how  to  choose  the  right  one. 
Take  the  best  maps  that  we  will,  they  do  not 
show  which  is  the  true  road ;  and  often  we  have 
to  wander  back  to  find  our  starting-point,  or  sit 
down  bewildered  and  lost  in  the  close  wood  that 
shuts  in  all  pathway.  We  study  old  writers,  we 
plunge  into  philosophy  and  into  speculation,  and 
try  to  learn  the  way  to  God.  We  hear  the  whirl- 
wind and  the  noise  of  the  earthquake,  but  we 
hear  not  his  voice.  The  ways  all  seem  uncertain, 
the  ways  to  Him,  the  way  through  life,  the  way, 
even,  through  the  little  duties  of  the  day. 

We  want  the  truth  to  guide  us.  But  the  truth 
is  hard  to  find.  One  teacher  and  another  claim 
to  show  it  us,  but  in  all  they  show  there  is  some- 
thing wanting.  It  is  very  fascinating  to  study 
the  theory  of  life,  to  speculate  on  its  beginning, 
or  course,  or  end.  Some  minds  naturally  occupy 
themselves  with  such  subjects,  and  cannot  rest 
from  them.  They  are  every  moment  asking  new 
questions,  and  then  discouraged  when  there  comes 
no  answer.  And  we  all  want  to  know  what  is  the 
truth.    We  want  to  see  clearly  what  is  before  us. 


THE   BIBLE.  321 

But  the  faithless  heart  does  not  find  the  truth  ei- 
ther in  books  or  in  friends,  and  the  heart  itself  is 
deceitful ;  and  at  the  same  time  that  the  way- 
appears  uncertain,  the  truth  seems  dimmed  and 
insecure,  and  we  do  not  know  where  to  find 
either. 

Amidst  all  these  doubts  the  life  fails.  How 
can  we  learn  to  live  if  we  do  not  know  the  way 
to  live,  and  have  not  the  truth  to  guide  us  ?  We 
ask  in  despair,  What  is  life  ?  We  begin  to  fear 
it  is  only  a  dream:  Some  of  us  live  wholly  in 
the  other  world.  A  mistaken  conscientiousness, 
a  fancy  that  this  is  a  religious  life,  leads  many  to 
putting  their  thoughts  so  wholly  in  the  future 
world,  that  they  neglect  to  live  in  this.  It  is  true 
the  body  holds  them  down  and  demands  of  them 
little  daily  duties.  But  they  go  through  these 
with  a  sadness  and  a  martyr-spirit,  as  if  they  felt 
they  were  made  for  heaven,  but  some  mistake 
had  set  them  here  for  a  time.  We  cannot  say 
they  live.  For  all  the  work  they  do  here  is  that 
of  a  machine  which  does  not  live.  There  are 
such  days  of  existence  to  all  of  us,  when  some 
weight  on  our  spirits  has  put  us  out  of  tune  with 
life  here.  Our  duties  no  longer  seem  ours,  they 
are  distasteful  to  us,  we  fancy  ourselves  made  for 
a  higher  sphere,  and  wish  to  take  our  hands  from 
the  plough  that  is  waiting  in  the  unfurrowed 
earth.     There  is  no  heartiness  in  our  greetings, 


322  THE   SIXTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

for  these  are  not  the  friends  we  would  like  to 
meet;  there  is  no  earnestness  in  our  labor,  be- 
cause we  believe  it  beneath  us;  there  is  no 
warmth  in  our  prayers,  because  we  have  grown 
faithless  towards  God,  who  would  not  give  us  a 
better  world  to  live  in,  or  better  tools  to  use  in 
this  world. 

Some  are  living  in  another  extreme,  for  this 
world  only.  And  this  too  is  not  living.  The 
time  is  given  up  to  gain  and  business  and  pleas- 
ure, which  inthrall  both  body,  and  soul,  but  give 
neither  a  chance  to  live.  It  is  again  a  mechan- 
ical round,  not  a  life.  It  needs  the  inspiration 
of  something  higher ;  it  needs  the  wakening  of 
some  great  purpose  and  aim ;  it  needs  to  be  roused 
by  the  thought  of  immortality,  of  the  presence 
of  God,  of  the  life  of  Christ. 

For  there  is  a  way  and  a  truth  and  a  life  for 
those  who  will  seek  for  them.  We  can  come  back 
from  our  speculations  and  our  dreamings  to  study 
the  life  of  Christ.  We  can  learn  what  is  the 
way,  because  he  knew  how  to  tread  it.  It  leads 
us  among  the  suffering ;  it  leads  us  away  from 
selfishness ;  it  leads  us  towards  God.  God  is  no 
longer  a  vague  and  abstract  being,  not  only  the 
upholder  of  the  universe,  but  he  is  our  Father, 
to  whom  we  may  come  with  our  daily  cares. 
The  way  to  him  is  not  far ;  it  is  not  long.  We 
have  not  to  seek  his  temple  in  distant  mountains, 


THE  BIBLE.  323 

nor  to  wait  for  heaven,  but  we  may  listen  to  his 
voice  within  us.  By  following  in  this  way,  we 
learn  the  truth.  The  words  of  Jesus  are  simple. 
"  Believe  ye  that  the  Father  is  in  me,  and  I  in 
him."  "  Abide  in  me,  and  I  in  you.  As  the 
branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself,  except  it  abide 
in  the  vine ;  no  more  can  ye,  except  ye  abide  in 
me."  If  we  believe  in  the  words  of  Jesus,  their 
truth  shines  before  us. 

It  is  he  that  teaches  us  to  live.  His  life  was 
an  example  of  true  living.  It  was  full  of  cour- 
age and  of  faith.  We  are  always  faltering,  al- 
ways complaining,  sometimes  making  much  of 
this  life,  as  though  it  were  all,  sometimes  despis- 
ing it,  as  though  it  were  a  poor  gift  for  God  to 
make.  Jesus  said,  "  He  that  loseth  his  life  shall 
save  it " ;  and  yet  he  did  not  think  lightly  of  life, 
for  he  said,  "  Greater  love  has  no  man  than  this, 
that  he  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friend."  We 
must  begin  with  faith  in  him.  A  little  faith,  faith 
like  a  grain  of  mustard-seed,  is  all  he  asks.  With 
this  faith  we  must  look  upon  his  life,  we  must  see 
its  self-sacrifice  and  be  inspired  by  its  teachings. 
Other  teachings  come  to  us  like  dry  proverbs,  or 
are  the  studied  efforts  of  a  silent,  retired  life,  or 
want  the  sanction  of  a  holy  life.  Or  else  they 
are  uttered  in  doubt  and  uncertainty,  they  are 
feeling  for  truth,  but  are  not  the  truth  itself. 
They  impress  us  just  because  they  strike  some 


324  THE  SIXTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

sad,  sympathetic  chord  in  our  own  hearts,  but 
they  do  not  give  us  strength.  They  all  end  with 
the  same  unsatisfied  questionings  with  which  we 
began  them. 

But  the  words  of  Christ  are  in  harmony  with 
his  life.  They  are  a  part  of  that  life.  There 
was  the  same  inspiration  in  his  words  that  there 
was  in  his  deeds.  He  said,  "  My  Father  worketh 
with  me."  They  were  always  called  out  by  the 
need  of  the  moment,  so  they  could  not  be  dry, 
dull  teachings.  And  they  were  uttered  in  per- 
fect faith,  there  was  no  doubt  or  uncertainty  in 
them.  They  contained  no  promises  but  rest  and 
peace.  "  Take  up  the  cross,  and  follow  me." 
"  Leave  all,  and  follow  me."  The  object  in  life 
for  which  he  lived  was  "to  do  the  will  of  the 
Father." 

There  is  much  to  be  learned  of  the  outer  his- 
tory of  the  Gospels,  when  and  how  they  were 
written.  There  is  much  to  be  read  of  the  vari- 
ous opinions  concerning  their  writers,  of  the 
effect  that  is  produced  in  different  minds  by  the 
differences  found  in  the  various  Gospels,  —  these 
differences  in  some  minds  producing  a  conviction 
of  the  accuracy  of  the  record,  in  others  startling 
them  away  from  this  conviction.  But  it  is 
pleasant  to  turn  away  from  these  conflicting  opin- 
ions, to  read  the  life  of  Christ  by  the  lamp  of  our 
own  faith,  —  to  turn  away  from  discord  and  find 


THE  BIBLE.  325 

harmony.  For  we  do  find  a  harmony,  the  words 
and  the  deeds  both  represent  the  high  aim  of  his 
life.  The  more  we  study  them,  the  more  com- 
plete, the  more  precious  do  they  become.  They 
have  something  for  every  sufferer,  they  bring  con- 
solation to  every  doubter.  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall 
we  go  ?    Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life ! " 


THE  SEVENTH   STOEMY    SUNDAY. 


PAIN 


Since  I  am  coming  to  that  holy  room 
Where  with  the  choir  of  saints  for  evermore 

I  shall  be  made  thy  music ;  as  I  come, 
I  tune  the  instrument  here  at  the  door, 
And  what  I  must  be  then,  think  here  before. 

Donne. 


THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

PAIN. 

To-day  there  has  been  storm  without  and  storm 
within.  Without,  a  wild  struggling  of  the  ele- 
ments ;  within,  the  struggle  of  the  soul  and  body. 
A  whole  day  of  pain !  Sometimes  giving  strength 
with  the  wonderful  excitement  it  brought  to  the 
nerves,  sometimes  weighing  down  body  and  soul 
into  the  most  depressing  weakness.  What  is  the 
office  of  patience  under  incessant  pain  ?  I  must 
submit.  It  is  no  time  for  me  to  summon  the 
grace  of  patience ;  I  must  bear  the  burden.  I 
must  bear  it  alone.  It  is  easy  for  me  now,  since 
there  is  no  one  for  me  to  express  my  complaints 
to,  no  one  to  hear  my  cry  of  agony  if  I  utter  it, 
—  no  one  but  God,  and  already  he  knows  my  suf- 
fering. 

Must  I  submit  in  silence  ?  And  can  I  bring 
myself  to  say  that  this  is  good  for  me  ?  I  re- 
member I  used  to  test  my  sufferance  of  pain  by 
asking  myself  whether  there  were  any  other  per- 

28* 


330  THE   SEVENTH   STOKMY   SUNDAY. 

son  in  the  world  to  whom  I  would  consent  to  give 
it  rather  than  bear  it  myself.  And  my  consent- 
ing to  bear  the  pain  myself  I  considered  a  test  of 
my  endurance.  Indeed,  it  is  far  easier  to  bear 
such  pain  than  to  look  upon  it  in  another ;  for,  as 
some  one  has  said,  the  pain  from  which  we  see 
another  suffering  appears  to  us  infinite,  because 
we  cannot  measure  it,*while  we  know  the  breadth 
and  length  of  our  own  suffering. 

This  pain  I  have  been  willing  to  bear  myself, 
and  alone  ;  but,  alas  !  not  without  complaint.  Af- 
ter reading  the  strengthening  words  of  others, 
after  recalling  the  courageous  resolutions  of  qui- 
eter hours,  after  words  of,  prayer  for  strength,  I 
have  been  driven  back  to  the  complaining  excla- 
mation, "  0,  release  me  from  this  pain !  " 

In  pain  one  is  swallowed  up  in  the  present,  in 
the  same  way  as  in  extreme  joy.  In  moments  of 
great  happiness  we  are  willing  to  forget  all  other 
happiness ;  the  moments  that  lie  behind  are  quite 
lost  in  the  present,  and  we  scarcely  allow  our- 
selves time  to  look  forward.  The  beautiful  scene 
falls  upon  our  soothed  eyes,  the  gentle  sounds 
lull  our  delighted  senses,  a  happy  companionship 
fills  all  the  wants  of  sympathy,  and  the  present 
moment  is  sufficient  and  full  of  life.  Sometimes 
we  say  that  this  only  is  true  life,  that  it  is  the 
happiness  that  God  has  given  to  his  children,  and 
that  we  were  ungrateful  if  we  brought  into  its 


PAIN.  331 

enjoyment  any  memory  of  the  past  or  any  shad- 
ow of  the  future.  And  they  are  moments  that 
are  necessary  for  the  life  of  the  soul  and  the  body. 
Both  of  them  are  often  cast  down  by  privation, 
by  weakness ;  and  this  earthly  happiness  is  need- 
ful for  the  refreshing  of  the  body  and  the  soul. 
I  can  call  it  earthly  happiness  without  meaning 
to  put  upon  it  a  low  term.  It  is  the  happiness 
that  the  flower  draws  out  from  the  earth,  and 
which  from  its  own  life  and  joyfulness  it  changes 
into  color  and  perfume.  It  is  the  happiness  that 
the  bee  drinks  from  the  flower,  on  which  the  bird 
feeds  in  its  fruit.  It  is  the  happiness  that  the 
summer  brings.  In  one  summer  day  what  rich- 
ness of  life  is  poured  forth,  seen  and  unseen ! 
Whirring  insects,  flocks  of  birds,  waving  grass, 
dashing  streams,  by  the  side  of  quiet  lakes  still 
full -of  life,  broad  green  swards  on  which  rest 
peaceful  flocks,  and  great  seas  in  majestic  motion. 
And  all  such  life  seems  full  of  joy,  so  that  it  can 
hardly  rest  in  its  expression  of  joy.  It  is  the 
happiness  of  our  earth  which  lends  some  of  its 
vapor  to  receive  the  tints  of  the  sunset  sky.  We 
were  ungrateful  if  we  too  could  not  enter  into 
the  joyfulness  that  the  summer  day  brings  forth. 
And  a  day  of  pain  stands  in  severe  contrast. 
It  is  a  heavier  contrast  than  the  words  summer 
and  winter  bring  to  us.  Winter,  it  is  true,  checks 
all  these  sources  of  life,  puts  to  sleep  the  insects, 


332     THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

exiles  the  gay  birds,  stays  the  streams  with  its 
icy  hand,  and  chills  the  lake,  and  cuts  'down  the 
grass  in  the  broad  fields.  But  over  all  seeming 
decay  and  destruction  it  spreads  the  snowy  cov- 
ering ;  if  it  robs  the  trees,  it  leaves  a  graceful  out- 
line of  trunk  and  branches  against  the  sky,  and 
hangs  around  the  stayed  stream  a  silver  tracery 
as  varied  as  summer  foliage.  But  the  pain  that 
comes  -to  us  in  the  place  of  happiness  has  no  such 
snowy  mantle  of  peace  to  distract  us  from  its 
presence.  We  must  look  it  in  the  face  ;  it  is  there, 
we  cannot  turn  away  from  it.  And  so  we  find 
ourselves  far  more  taken  up  in  the  "  present "  of 
pain,  than  we  were  even  in  that  of  joy.  For  it  is 
of  very  little  help  to  recall  that  such  a  pain  may 
be  of  short  duration.  It  is  but  little  consolation 
to  say,  "  This  pain  is  so  violent,  that  in  a  few  hours 
I  may  be  relieved."  I  say  this  is  of  little  help, 
and  of  little  consolation,  because  under  the  in- 
fluence of  present  suffering,  in  the  weakened  state 
of  the  body,  it  is  so  hard  to  reach  the  higher  faith 
that  can  submit,  that  can  look  forward  to  a  re- 
lease. Such  a  faith  the  early  Christians  reached 
when  they  could  speak  of  their  affliction  as  "  light, 
but  for  a  moment,"  in  comparison  with  the  "  eter- 
nal weight  of  glory,"  looking  as  they  did  towards 
the  "  things  not  seen."  It  has  made  me  smile  to 
read  such  a  suggestion  as  that  I  met  with  the 
other  day,  that  the  belief  in  the  approaching  end 


pain.  333 

of  the  world,  held  by  the  disciples,  is  "  a  diminu- 
tion of  their  credit  for  disinterestedness  and  self- 
sacrifice."  As  if  this  "belief"  were  an  easy 
thing  to  enter  upon,  —  as  though  it  required  no 
disinterestedness  and  self-sacrifice ! 

It  is  difficult  to  endure  merely  a  violent  tooth- 
ache for  an  hour,  even  if  one  could  hope  for  an 
entire  release  from  it  at  the  end  of  that  hour. 
It  must  require  some  self-sacrifice  to  enter  upon 
a  voluntary  physical  suffering,  even  if  repose  and 
reward  lay  visibly  within  reach.  Far  more  dif- 
ficult must  such  sacrifice  be,  accompanied  with 
contumely  from  others,  self-distrust,  and  that 
human  weakness  that  surely  only  a  high  faith  can 
subdue.  In  our  calm,  painless  moments  we  can 
easily  say  we  should  be  able  to  bear  what  "  the 
saints  "  endured,  if  we  had  their  faith !  An  hour's 
physical  suffering,  half  a  night's  suspicion  of  our 
best  friend,  a  few  moments'  distrust  of  ourselves 
and  of  our  cause,  might  show  us  how  hard  a 
thing  it  is  to  reach  such  a  faith. 

It  cannot  be  reached  by  the  momentary  effort 
at  resignation  that  we  strive  after  in  the  midst  of 
suffering.  It  cannot  be  reached  by  the  mere 
painting  of  imagination,  which  may  try  to  pic- 
ture the  crown  of  reward  and  a  future  repose. 
Imagination  may  sometimes  be  of  assistance  in 
relieving  the  thoughts  in  what  would  be  dreary 
hours  of  endurance.     But  more  often  it  lends  a 


334     THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

deeper  agony  to  the  throb  of  the  excited  nerves ; 
it  can  seldom  carry  us  away  even  from  mere  phys- 
ical suffering.  If  the  "  things  unseen  "  became  so 
present  to  the  Apostles  that  they  could  forget  their 
"  light  momentary  affliction/'  it  was  no  sudden 
flash  that  opened  to  them  a  future  joy,  or  a  new 
elevation,  that  lifted  them  from  their  present  suf- 
fering ;  it  was  their  religious  faith  which  they  had 
worked  out  for  themselves,  the  same  faith  that 
acknowledged  the  presence  of  God  in  their  hours 
of  satisfaction,  and  recognized  him  now  in  their 
hour  of  affliction. 

For  these  hours  of  extreme  joy  and  pain  do 
not  make  up  our  life.  We  seldom  pass  through 
days  of  desert  emptiness,  nor  can  linger  long  in 
a  paradise  of  delight.  Joys  and  pains  alternate 
with  each  other.  The  sum  of  our  life  is  a  series 
of  "  little  things,"  a  succession  of  little  duties, 
the  necessity  of  constant  little  decisions.  Over 
these  hangs  sometimes  the  arch  of  sunlight,  some- 
times they  are  canopied  with  clouds.  One  day 
suffices  to  present  all  these  changes.  We  cannot 
pass  our  life  in  a  constant  joyousness,  for  suffer- 
ing in  the  shapes  of  pain  and  sorrow  looks  us  in 
the  face.  And  we  cannot  turn  away  from  the  re- 
fining power  of  its  discipline.  But  the  buoyancy 
of  gratitude  that  has  given  the  zest  to  our  days 
of  joyousness  can  help  us  to  bear  the  heavy  weight 
upon  our  spirits,  when  body  and  soul  are  both  suf- 


pain.  335 

fering,  when  no  outward  happiness  avails  to  turn 
our  eyes  from  our  inward  struggle. 

There  is  then  one  help  that  stands  by  us  in  all 
the  changes  of  our  life ;  it  is  the  true  religious 
faith,  the  faith  that  sees  God  in  all  things.  This 
praises  him  in  the  hours  of  exaltation  and  of  joy, 
and  submits  in  the  hours  of  privation.  It  makes 
a  seemingly  monotonous  passage  of  time  glorious 
with  the  presence  of  Him  to  whom  one  day  is  as 
a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one 
day.  It  brings  a  consistency  to  a  life  that  at 
times  seems  too  much  agitated  with  its  changes 
from  joy  to  pain.  There  is  one  God  that  rules 
over  both.  It  gave  to  Peter  the  power  to  say : 
"  Beloved,  think  it  not  strange,  concerning  the 
fiery  trial  which  is  to  try  you,  as  though  some 
strange  thing  happened  unto  you ;  but  rejoice,  in- 
asmuch as  ye  are  partakers  of  Christ's  sufferings ; 
that,  when  his  glory  shall  be  revealed,  ye  may  be 
glad  with  exceeding  joy."  And  James  could 
say :  "  Be  patient,  therefore,  brethren,  unto  the 
coming  of  the  Lord.  Behold,  the  husbandman 
waiteth  for  the  precious  fruit  of  the  earth,  and 
hath  long  patience  for  it,  until  he  receive  the  ear- 
ly and  latter  rain.  Be  ye  also  patient ;  stablish 
your  hearts  ;  for  the  coming  of  the  Lord  draweth 
nigh.  Behold,  we  count  them  happy  which  en- 
dure ! " 

And  Paul  said :    "  Where  the   spirit  of  the 


336      THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

Lord  is,  there  is  liberty  ;  but  we  all,  with  open 
face  beholding  as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord, 
are  changed  into  the  same  image  from  glory  to 
glory,  even  as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord.  There- 
fore, seeing  we  have  this  ministry,  as  we  have 
received  mercy,  we  faint  not. 

"  For  we  preach  not  ourselves,  but  Christ  Jesus 
the  Lord ;  and  ourselves  your  servants  for  Jesus' 
sake.  For  God,  who  commanded  the  light  to 
shine  out  of  darkness,  hath  shined  in  our  hearts, 
to  give  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of 
God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ. 

"  But  we  have  this  treasure  in  earthen  vessels, 
that  the  excellency  of  the  power  may  be  of  God, 
and  not  of  us. 

"  We  are  troubled  on  every  side,  yet  not  dis- 
tressed ;  we  are  perplexed,  but  not  in  despair ; 
persecuted,  but  not  forsaken ;  cast  down,  but  not 
destroyed  ;  always  bearing  about  in  the  body,  the 
dying  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  the  life  also  of 
Jesus  might  be  made  manifest  in  our  body. 

"  For  which  cause  we  faint  not ;  but  though  our 
outward  man  perish,  yet  the  inward  man  is  re- 
newed day  by  day." 


pain.  337 

A  PRAYER. 

FROM   THOMAS   A  KEMPIS. 

0  Lord,  thou  knowest  what  is  best  for  us ;  let 
this  or  that  be  done,  as  thou  pleasest.  Give  what 
thou  wilt,  and  how  much  thou  wilt,  and  when 
thou  wilt.  Deal  with  me  as-4hou  thinkest  good, 
and  as  best  pleaseth  thee,  and  is  most  for  thy 
honor.  Set  me  where  thou  wilt,  and  deal  with 
me  in  all  things  just  as  thou  wilt.  I  am  in  thy 
hand  ;  turn  me  round  and  turn  me  back  again, 
which  way  soever  thou  pleasest. 

Behold,  I  am  thy  servant,  prepared  for  all 
things ;  for  I  desire  not  to  live  unto  myself,  but 
unto  thee ;  and  0  that  I  could  do  it  worthily  and 
perfectly ! 

Grant  to  me  thy  grace,  that  it  may  be  with  me, 
and  labor  with  me,  and  persevere  with  me  even 
to  the  end.  Grant  that  I  may  always  desire  and 
will  that  which  is  to  thee  most  acceptable  and 
most  dear.  Let  my  will  be  thine,  and  let  my  will 
ever  follow  thine,  and  agree  perfectly  with  it. 
Grant  to  me  above  all  things  that  can  be  desired, 
to  rest  in  thee,  and  in  thee  to  have  my  heart  at 
peace.  Thou  art  the  true  peace  of  the  heart,  thou 
its  only,  rest ;  out  of  thee  all  things  are  hard  and 
unquiet.  In  this  very  peace,  that  is,  in  thee,  the 
one  chiefest,  eternal  Good,  I  will,  sleep  and  rest. 
Amen. 

29 


338  THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 


OF  PAIN  AND  TROUBLE. 

BY  LEIGH   HUNT. 

The  pain  that  affects  ourselves  only,  and  not 
the  comfort  or  interests  of  the  many,  let  us  learn 
to  keep  in  subjection,  in  order  that  it  may  not 
subject  us.  Let  us  lord  it,  as  much  as  we  can, 
over  physical  evil,  that  we  may  bend  circum- 
stances to  our  will.  Let  us  be  respectful  wrest- 
lers also  with  intellectual  suffering,  that  we  may 
win  it  to  do  our  bidding.  As  men,  let  us  be 
manly  ;  as  women,  womanly  ;  thorough  helpers  ; 
forgiving  friends ;  not  querulous  with  evil,  both 
for  the  sake  of  others  and  ourselves ;  but  never- 
theless doing  all  we  can  to  master  it  for  the 
same  reason  ;  counting  pain  at  what  it  is  worth 
only ;  forcing  what  would  be  more  evil,  to  be- 
come a  part  of  good ;  and  opposing,  to  what  we 
cannot  subdue  in  its  effects  on  others,  a  resolu- 
tion that  will  at  least  hinder  ourselves  from  be- 
ing conquered.  Let  impatience  be  quickly  over. 
If  we  cannot  master  it  by  ourselves,  let  us  take 
it  with  us  to  God,  and  under  the  sense  of  his 
all-embracement  it  will  not  abide. 


PAIN. 
OF    TEARS  AND  LAT 

BY  LEIGH  HUNT. 

We  must  not  call  earth  a  vale  of  tears.  It  is 
neither  pious  to  do  so,  nor  in  any  respect  proper. 
We  might  as  well,  nay,  with  far  greater  propri- 
ety, call  it  a  field  of  laughter.  For  as  there  is 
more  good  than  evil  in  the  world,  more  action 
than  passion,  more  health  than  disease,  more  life 
than  death  (life  being  a  thing  of  years,  but  death 
of  moments),  so  there  is  more  comfort  than  dis- 
comfort, more  pleasure  than  pain,  and  therefore 
more  laughter  than  tears.  But  as  it  would  be  a 
disrespect  to  sorrow  to  call  earth  a  field  of  laugh- 
ter, so  it  is  a  sullenness  to  joy,  and  an  ingratitude 
to  the  goodness  of  God,  to  call  it  a  vale  of  tears. 

God  made  both  tears  and  laughter,  and  both 
for  kind  purposes.  For  as  laughter  enables  mirth 
and  surprise  to  breathe  freely,  so  tears  -enable  sor- 
row to  vent  itself  patiently.  Tears  hinder  sorrow 
from  becoming  despair  and  madness  ;  and  laugh- 
ter is  one  of  the  very  privileges  of  reason,  being 
confined  to  the  human  species. 

It  becomes  us,  therefore,  to  receive  both  the 
gifts  thankfully,  and  to  hold  ourselves,  on  fitting 
occasions,  superior  to  neither.  To  be  incapable 
of  tears  would  be  to  lose  some  of  the  sweetest 
emotions  of  humanity ;  and  the  proud  or  sullen 
fool  who  should  never  laugh,  would  but  reduce 
himself  below  it. 


340  THE   SEVENTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 


FROM  "THE  SAYINGS   OF  RABIA." 

BY   K.   M.   MILNES. 

Round  holy  Rabia's  suffering  bed 

The  wise  men  gathered,  gazing  gravely.  • 
"Daughter  of  God !  "  the  youngest  said, 

"  Endure  thy  Father's  chastening  bravely  ; 
They  who  have  steeped  their  souls  in  prayer 
Can  every  anguish  calmly  bear." 

She  answered  not,  and  turned  aside, 
Though  not  reproachfully  nor  sadly. 

"  Daughter  of  God  ! "  the  eldest  cried, 
"  Sustain  thy  Father's  chastening  gladly ; 

They  who  have  learnt  to  pray  aright, 

From  pain's  dark  well  draw  up  delight." 

Then  she  spoke  out :  "  Your  words  are  fair ; 

But  oh !  the  truth  lies  deeper  still ; 
I  know  not,  when  absorbed  in  prayer, 

Pleasure  or  pain,  or  good  or  ill ; 
They  who  God's  face  can  understand 
Feel  not  the  motions  of  his  hand." 


PAIN.  341 


"  We  have  this  treasure  in  earthen  vessels."  —  2  Corinthians  iv.  7. 

I  am  going  to  try  to  set  in  order  some  thoughts 
on  the  religious  value  of  sickness.  I  suppose 
there  is  apt  to  be  some  vagueness  of  notion  about 
it.  This  is  a  pity.  For  sickness  certainly  af- 
fords at  times  decided  advantages  in  our  relig- 
ious growth.  It  is,  I  think,  as  often  —  because 
not  rightly  used  —  a  decided  drawback  to  that 
growth.  It  is  a  pity,  then,  not  to  watch  it  closely 
enough  to  know  when  it  promises  one  of  these 
results  and  when  the  other.  I  should  say  that, 
in  general,  people  look  with  a  sense  of  mystery 
upon  it ;  almost  as  they  did  in  old  pagan  times, 
as  if  it  had  certain  magic  power  upon  the  soul. 
Have  you  never  observed,  that  when  people  are 
subdued,  and  do  not  wish  to  talk  of  worldly 
"things,  they  fall  to  talking  of  the  illness  in  the 
community  around  them,  with  an  air  of  seeming 
sanctity  ?  And  I  am  afraid  it  is  still  true,  that 
a  great  many  people,  who  are  very  practical  in 
lesser  affairs,  are  so  unpractical  about  their  soul's 
training  as  to  put  it  off  till  sickness  shall  give 
occasion  for  it ;  —  as  if  sickness  made  a  sort  of 
long  Sabbath,  which  nature  had  provided  for 
such  an  emergency. 

Of  course,  in  fact,  sickness  is  one  of  God's  an- 
gels. Its  real  heavenly  lesson  may  be  learned, 
always,  by  those  who  have  ears  and  can  hear. 

29  # 


342     THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

It  will  not  be  learned,  however,  in  any  such  su- 
perstitious estimate  as  I  have  hinted  at ;  and  it 
will  be  but  a  broken  stay,  if  we  have  not  well 
trained  ourselves  to  make  use  of  it  when  it  come. 
That  training,  like  most  training,  requires  times 
of  health,  and  therefore  I  call  your  attention  to  it 
here  and  now,  while  we  are  together  well. 

Of  the  real  solemnity  which  sickness  has,  apart 
from  this  half-superstitious  notion,  I  will  only 
say  one  thing,  by  way  of  introduction.  It  is  quite 
enough  to  give  the  fitting  gravity  to  our  medita- 
tions. It  is  this,  —  that  almost  all  the  seriousness 
with  which  we  are  used  to  invest  the  idea  of  death 
itself  belongs,  not  to  the  event  called  death,  but 
to  the  sick-bed  which  precedes  death.  The  real 
seriousness  of  death  is  simply  that  it  is  an  instan- 
taneous passage  from  life  to  life,  from  man  to 
God.  All  the  notions  beside  this,  which  we  hang 
about  it,  of  pain,  or  of  struggle,  as  our  pictures  of 
ghastly  faces,  of  hollow  cheeks,  and  of  skeleton 
forms,  are  notions  or  pictures  which  belong  to 
sickness,  not  death  ;  and  we  do  but  borrow  them 
from  sickness  to  dress  up  with  them  our  idea  of 
what  follows.  "  The  pain  of  death  is  but  in  con- 
templation "  before  death  comes  ;  and  it  is  the 
witness  of  long  struggling  sick-beds,  which  makes 
it  as  dreadful  as  it  is  supposed  to  be  to  the  great 
company  of  men. 

It  is  not,  then,  too  much  to  say,  that  the  thought 


pain.  343 

which  we  give  to  the  angel  of  Sickness,  and  the 
eager  forecast  with  which  we  look  forward  to  his 
ministrations,  should  be  and  might  be  even  more 
serious,  more  solemn,  and  more  patient  than  those 
which  look  to  the  angel  of  Death,  when  he  acts 
suddenly,  without  the  intervention  of  sickness. 
Because  of  sickness  we  know  and  see  so  much, 
while  of  death  itself  we  see  in  fact  so  very  little. 
A  passage  from  world  to  world !  All  that  we 
can  say  of  it  is,  that,  in  itself,  it  must  be  momen- 
tary. Most  likely  the  soul  starts  surprised  when 
it  is  over,  —  surprised  ever  to  find  that  it  is  be- 
gun. While  of  sickness,  each  instance  teaches  us 
more;  and  leaves  us,  if  we  will,  better  able  to 
meet  another. 

This  relation  of  sickness  to  the  instant  of  pas- 
sage which  we  call  death,  shall  be,  in  the  first 
place,  the  guide  of  our  meditations. 

I.  In  a  celebrated  sermon  on  sickness  which 
Mr.  Buckminster  preached  after  his  recovery  from 
one  of  those  severe  attacks  which  at  last  closed 
his  earthly  career,  he  enumerates  seven  benefits 
of  sickness :  — 

1.  It  calls  attention  directly  to  God. 

2.  It  reminds  us  of  the  uncertainty  of  human 
pursuits,  and 

3.  Of  their  vanity. 

Again,  it  shows  our  dependence  on  each  other ; 
it  softens  our  own  hearts  towards  others'  suf- 


344      THE.  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

ferings ;  it  teaches  us  also  the  value  of  our 
health. 

Lastly,  and  chief  of  all,  it  shows  us  "  how  idle, 
how  fatal  the  notion,  that  hours  of  weakness  or 
of  suffering  will  be  hours  favorable  to  quiet  re- 
flection and  pious  thoughts,  how  vain  his  scheme 
of  life  who  has  relied  upon  them  entirely." 

These  lessons  are  addressed  not  only  to  the  suf- 
ferer, but  to  those  around  him  as  well,  —  his 
friends,  his  physician,  his  nurses,  his  neighbors. 
Now,  will  you  observe  that  each  of  these  invalu- 
able and  eternal  lessons  is  complete  and  effective, 
without  any  allusion  to  death  as  the  probable 
consequence  of  illness  ?  It  is  not  dangerous  ill- 
ness only  which  teaches  them.  Long,  wearing 
confinement  of  whatever  kind  instils  them.  They 
are  not  borrowed  from  the  treasure  of  death's 
admonitions  ;  but  have  a  value  and  origin  all 
their  own.  So  true  is  it  that  sickness,  of  itself, 
has  many  a  lesson,  which  death  itself  cannot  teach 
to  Us. 

Practically,  you  may  make  the  same  observa- 
tion thus, — in  seeing,  that,  of  all  the  persons  who 
would  meet  the  instant  of  death  bravely,  not  one 
in  a  hundred  probably  would  bear  as  bravely  the 
sentence  of  a  year's  languishing.  For  instance, 
most  of  us,  I  think,  would  receive  firmly,  with- 
out much  outcry  or  expression  of  grief,  the  an- 
nouncement that  in  the  next  instant  to  this  he 


pain.  845 

must  die.  An  instant's  resignation  to  God's  will 
is  not  so  difficult  but  we  might  yield  it.  But  to 
resign  one's  self  every  instant  for  months  or 
years  is  another  thing;  and  the  training  which 
has  fitted  one  to  meet  death  does  not,  of  course, 
prepare  us  to  meet  this  harder  trial. 

And  thus  we  are  led  to  our  first  practical  les- 
son for  use  in  sickness ;  namely,  that  we  avoid, 
in  counselling  our  sick  friends,  or  in  arranging 
our  own  thoughts  on  the  sick-bed,  the  habit  of 
looking  mostly  at  death,  as  if  that  were  the  one 
business  for  which  God  had  placed  us  there. 
We  have  two  different  things  to  learn,  —  how  to 
meet  death,  and  how  to  bear  sickness.  Of  these 
the  latter  is  vastly  the  harder.  And  yet  it  is  at 
each,  the  instant,  the  certain  duty,  and  that  which 
is  at  once  essential.  The  Christian  sufferer  then 
leaves  till  to-morrow  to-morrow's  care  ;  and  turns 
to-day's  prayer,  to-day's  resolution,  not  to  to- 
morrow's possible  result,  but  to  to-day's  essential 
duty.  How  best  shall  I  discharge  the  duty  of 
this  sick-bed  ?  How  best  ease  the  trouble  and 
anxiety  of  these  friends  ?  How  best  keep  my 
mind  at  peace,  and  this  angry  temper  soothed  ? 
How  best,  0  God  !  keep  my  spirit  of  devotion 
ordered,  and  my  soul  near  to  thee  ?  Harder 
questions  these  to  meet  than  that  vague  one, 
"  Am  I  ready  to  die  ?  "  to  which  mistaken 
physicians  to  the  soul  beg  him  to  turn  his  atten- 


346     THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

tion,  —  harder,  and  yet  vastly  more  essential  to 
be  answered. 

For  God  so  orders  life  that  my  right  discharge 
of  to-day's  duty  always  implies  a  preparation 
for  to-morrow's.  Have  I  learned  to-day's  lesson 
thoroughly,  to-morrow's  follows  very  simply,  be 
it  a  lesson  in  arithmetic  or  a  lesson  in  life.  And 
therefore,  though  bold  readiness  to  die  by  no 
means  implies  fitness  to  bear  long  sickness,  the 
counter  proposition  is  true.  Steady  duty  in  long 
sickness  does  imply,  does  bring  about  of  itself,  a 
perfect  fitness  to  die.  Is  your  body  purified  by 
this  patient  subjugation  to  which  you  have  brought 
your  appetites  ?  Is  your  mind  disciplined,  are 
your  anger  and  quick  temper  tamed,  by  patient 
submission  here  in  your  sick-room  ?  Is  your  at- 
tention turned  off  earthly  pursuits  as  you  have  lain 
here,  with  so  little  to  remind  you  in  your  cham- 
ber's monotony  of  the  world's  changes  ?  Why, 
then  body,  mind,  passions,  and  eager  appetites 
are  all  trained,  and  in  readiness  for  you  to  pass 
on.  And  when  the  Angel  Death  whispers  to  say, 
"  Are  you  ready  ? "  you  look  round  to  array 
yourself,  and  find  you  are  arrayed  ;  to  throw  off 
your  encumbrances,  and  behold  they  are  gone  ; 
to  take  your  staff,  and  see  the  discipline  of  sick- 
ness has  fitted  it  to  your  hand.  You  smile,  sur- 
prised, and  say,  "  Lead  on !  "  He  smiles,  with 
the  smile  which  has  seen  that  glad  amazement  of 


pain.  347 

humility  so  often  before;  and  we  who  wait  be- 
side know  only  that  the  change  is  a  blessed  one ; 
and  we  are  left  for  a  few  years  to  wonder  how  it 
came.  This  only  we  know,  that  because,  each 
day,  you  were  prepared  for  a  day  of  sickness, 
when  the  last  moment  came,  you  were  prepared 
for  death. 

And  this  reflection  then  shall  guide  us,  when, 
as  comforters  or  counsellors  or  friends,  we  go  to 
stand  by  other  beds  of  sickness.  Not  that  any 
one  of  us  will  be  afraid  to  think  or  speak  of 
Death  !  God  forbid !  For  God  sends  him,  as 
one  of  our  dearest  friends.  Not  because  we  fear 
death,  but  because  we  fear  to  fail  in  to-day's 
duty,  will  we  turn  distinctly  to  the  duty  next 
our  hand  in  the  sick-room.  What  can  we  say, 
what  do,  that  this  sufferer  may  meet  to-day  more 
patiently,  more  bravely  ?  For  that  is  his  duty. 
So  to  help  him  in  that,  is  ours.  Most  like  we 
do  not  help  him  by  discussing  death  with  him. 
Most  like  he  knows  more  of  that  than  we.  Let 
us  help  him  to  patience  under  pain  ;  let  us  cheer 
him  in  discomfort  or  disappointment  ;  let  us 
bring  him  to  God,  and  God  to  him,  by  joining  in 
his  prayer,  or  by  helping  him  with  ours ;  and 
then,  if  we  have  been  really  living,  we  have  done 
our  blessed  duty  for  that  day,  and  helped  him  in 
his  as  well.  If  we  have  wisely  remembered  his 
weakness,  if  we  have  cut  short  our  words  and 


348      THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

our  presence,  so  as  not  to  weary  him,  (the  most 
essential  duty  of  such  a  friend,)  then  we  have  a 
right  to  trust  that  we  have  brought  some  help 
there,  such  as  we  may  hope  to  receive  in  our 
turn ! 

II.  I  pass  now  to  the  systematic  treatment  .ne- 
cessary that  we  may  bear  sickness  well  and  se- 
cure its  lessons.  We  remember,  of  course,  what 
I  quoted  just  now  from  Buckminster,  "  that  the 
hours  of  torturing  pain  and  languishing  confine- 
ment are  not  the  hours  most  favorable  to  quiet 
reflection  and  pious  thoughts."  While  we  re- 
member this,  however,  we  must  acknowledge  that 
God  never  brings  upOn  us  a  trial  which  we  have 
not  strength  to  bear,  and  that  every  trial  has 
somewhere  its  compensations  and  helps,  teaching 
us  or  suggesting  to  us  how  to  bear  it.  So,  I 
should  say  that  the  one  special  service  which 
sickness  renders  in  regard  of  religion  is  that  it 
gradually  and  certainly  weans  us  from  external 
occupations.  It  compels  us  to  find  occupation 
within  ourselves.  If  you  cannot  walk  in  your 
garden,  it  is  harder  for  you,  while  imprisoned  on 
your  bed,  to  occupy  your  heart  and  thought  there, 
although  it  is  not  impossible.  If  you  cannot  go 
to  your  counting-room,  it  is  not  of  course  that 
your  mind  will  be  engrossed  there,  and  when  you 
do  go  there,  that  is  of  course.  We  must  in  sick- 
ness find  occupation  in  ourselves.    Well,  this  may 


.  pain.  849 

be  a  gain  or  not,  as  we  choose  to  make  it.  For 
there  is  no  certainty  that  this  occupation  will  be 
religious  occupation,  or  that  it  shall  tend  to  make 
us  religious.  But  this  is  certain,  —  that  the  ab- 
stinence from  your  accustomed  interests  suggests 
to  you  this  question :  "  What  other  interests  can 
I  brood  over  in  these  silent  hours  ?  "  If,  as  you 
lie,  windows  curtained,  temples  throbbing,  mind 
quivering,  —  if  the  interest,  which  last  week  was 
so  fascinating,  of  a  mercantile  adventure  or  a  de- 
liriously balanced  romance  or  poem,  become  dis- 
gusting to  you,  so  that  your  tired  fancy  pushes  it 
out  of  the  way,  —  this  question  must  come  instead : 
"  What  interest  is  less  transitory  than  these  ?  " 
"  These  were  everything ;  now  they  are  noth- 
ing. What  interest,  what  thought,  would  abide 
with  me  and  remain,  though  my  mind  do  quiver, 
though  my  temples  do  throb,  in  "this  darkened 
chamber  ? "  Sickness  helps  you  so  far  as  to  sug- 
gest that  question.  God  grant  you  find  what 
sickness  does  not  of  itself  give,  the  right1  answer  ! 
God  grant  you,  that  in  well  life  you  prepare  for 
that  question  !  God  grant  that  so  your  subdued 
spirit  whisper,  "  These  three  abide  and  shall  eter- 
nal be,  —  faith,  hope,  and  love  !  "  That  so,  as 
you  lie  there,  not  asleep,  yet  not  speaking  or  spo- 
ken to,  the  hours  may  fly  by,  rather  than  crawl 
along,  as  your  grateful  heart  feeds  itself  with 
these  eternal  interests.     As  your  faith  in  a  pres- 

30 


350      THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

ent  God,  who  shares  with  you  that  darkened 
room,  becomes  more  faithful,  as  your  hope  for  a 
higher  life  becomes  more  tangible  and  clear, 
and  as  your  love  of  these  dear  friends  —  of  that 
Saviour  who  is  best  friend  of  all,  and  of  the  God 
who  is  just  now  next  your  heart  of  any  —  grows 
fresher  and  more  childlike  till  it  is  your  all ;  so. 
is  it  that  sickness  may  bless  you  in  withdrawing 
you  from  care,  by  bringing  you  so  near  to  God, 
and  him  to  you  ! 

A  blessing,  I  have  hinted,  for  which  some  prep- 
aration of  well  days  is  needed.  Make  that  prep- 
aration like  a  man  studying  facts,  and  not  from 
fancy  or  notion.  Pain  does  weaken  you.  A  fe- 
ver does  cut  down  your  strength.  Sickness  does 
tame  your  proud  spirit.  Do  not,  when  you  are 
well,  imagine  that  when  you  are  ill  you  are 
going  to  stand  out  against  any  such  changer,  of 
your  own  strength.  Do  not  talk  of  training 
yourself  to  insensibility  to  pain.  Do  not  rely  on 
any  chivalrous,  pride-born  resolution.  The  loss 
of  a  few  ounces  of  blood  will  cut  down  all  such 
resolutions,  as  surely  as  a  wound  in  its  roots 
makes  a  tree's  leaves  wither.  You  need  better 
rest  than  that.  That  is  a  mere  struggle  of  your 
will,  and  a  struggle  ending  in  failure.  You  want 
to  have  sickness  even  work  good  for  you.  That 
is  the  aim.  To  most  men  it  seems  an  evil.  You 
want  to  make  it  work  good.     There  is  only  one 


PAIN.  351 

way  in  which  it  can  be  made  to   work   good. 
But  this  way  you  may  rely  upon. 

For  this  practical  fact,  announced  by  the  high- 
est faith,  proves  true  on  the  closest  detailed  ob- 
servation, namely,  that  all  things  work  together 
for  good  to  them  that  love  God.  Your  panacea 
to  be  gained  in  health,  is  this  abiding  love  of  the 
Father  in  whose  image  you  are  made.  Love 
him,  as  you  love  your  nearest  friend.  Love 
him,  as  he  loves  you ;  that  he  may  not  call  you 
a  servant  longer,  but  call  you  a  friend ;  letting 
you  see  what  he  does,  letting  you  enter  into  his 
system.  Then,  though  you  suffer,  you  suffer 
willingly.  You  grow  faint,  knowing  that  he 
holds  your  swooning  head.  You  wait  through 
sleepless  nights,  confident  still  in  him  that  sleep- 
less nights  are  fraught  somehow  with  blessings 
to  the  world  ;  your  sleepless  night  is,  though  you 
are  such  a  little  child,  as  truly  as  the  sleepless 
night  of  Paul  shipwrecked,  —  nay,  as  the  sleep- 
less night  on  which  the  dew  fell  in  Gethsemane. 
If  only  you  love  God,  you  feel  how  gently  he 
deals  with  you ;  that  it  is  those  whom  he  loves 
whom  he  chooses  for  his  chastisements.  So  fades 
away  the  mean  suspicion  of  false  theologies,  that 
your  strength  fails  because  you  have  incurred 
his  wrath  ;  and  that  the  chamber  of  sickness  is 
to  be  doubly  saddened,  as  being  the  torture-room 
where  a  Father  is  dealing  his  vengeance  upon  his 
child  ! 


352      THE  SEVENTH  STOEMY  SUNDAY. 

Is  it  another's  sick-room  which  you  enter,  or 
is  it  your  Own  where  you  lie  bound,  take  thus 
the  Holy  Spirit,  the  One  Comforter,  to  be  with 
you.  First,  remember  that  you  have  there  a 
graver  lesson  even  than  the  lesson  of  death  to  trace 
along.  Secondly,  then  the  sick-room  does  offer 
for  the  true  lesson  its  share  of  advantages,  in  its 
seclusion,  if  you  will  use  them.  But  chiefly  and 
behind  all,  remember  that  this  is  God's  angel  of 
mercy,  and  not  of  anger,  whom  you  would  ques- 
tion. With  that  memory  may  the  Comforter  in- 
spire us  !  With  the ,  memory  indeed  of  one  who 
was  made  perfect  through  his  own  suffering,  — 
was  acquainted  with  grief,  and  so  indeed  our 
Saviour  ;  who  brought  blessing  to  so  many  sick  ; 
who  so  often  entered  the  sick-room  and  knew  its 
life  so  well,  —  knew  so  well,  too,  the  tears,  the 
hopes,  of  so  many  sorrowful  hearts.  So  shall 
come  the  life  which  .abides,  even  when  the  nerves 
quiver  ;  so  come  the  faith  which  is  cool,  even 
though  the  blood  boils.  So  shall  each  day  of 
sickness  be  sufficient  for  each  day's  duties.  No 
day  shall  look  nervously  forward  to  anticipate  the 
lesson  of  the  last  day.  If  such  sickness  ends 
with  recovery,  you  find  that  such  imprisonment 
has  trained  you  for  your  freedom.  Or,  does  it 
end  with  death  ?  Well,  when  your  last  day 
comes,  behold  !  its  duty  will  have  been  already 
accomplished,  in  hours  which  did  not  think  that 


pain.  353 

they  were  attempting  it.  And,  at  the  threshold 
of  eternity,  you  find  that  you  are  ready,  —  that 
there  is  no  parting  lesson  to  be  learned. 


M  I  will  lead  them  through  paths  they  have  not  known." 

How  few  who  from  their  youthful  day 
Look  on  to  what  their  life  shall  be, 

Painting  the  visions  of  the  way 
In  colors  soft  and  bright  and  free  ! 

How  few  who  to  such  scenes  have  brought 

The  dreams  and  hopes  of  early  thought ! 

For  God  through  ways  they  have  not  known 
Will  lead  his  own. 

The  eager  hearts,  the  souls  of  fire, 
That  pant  to  toil  for  God  and  man, 

And  mark  with  eyes  of  keen  desire 
The  upland  way  of  toil  and  pain,  — 

Almost  with  scorn  they  think  of  rest, 

Of  holy  calm,  of  tranquil  breast. 

But  God  through  ways  they  have  not  known 
Will  lead  his  own. 

A  lowlier  task  on  them  is  laid, 

With  love  to  make  their  labor  light; 

And  there  their  glory  must  be  shed 
On  quiet  home,  and  lost  to  sight ; 

30* 


354     THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

Changed  are  their  visions  bright  and  fair, 
But  calm  and  still  they  labor  there  ; 
For  God  through  ways  they  have  not  known 
Will  lead  his  own. 

The  gentle  breast  that  thinks  with  pain 
It  scarce  can  lowliest  tasks  fulfil, 

And,  would  it  dare  its  life  to  scan, 

Would  ask  but  pathway  low  and  still,  — 

Often  such  lowly  heart  is  brought 

To  act  with  power  beyond  its  thought ; 

For  God  in  ways  they  have  not  known 
Will  lead  his  own. 

And  they,  the  bright,  who  long  to  prove 

In  joyous  way,  in  cloudless  lot, 
How  fresh  from  each  their  grateful  love 
Can  spring  without  a  stain  or  blot, — 
Such  youthful  heart  is  often  given 
The  path  of  grief  to  tread  to  heaven  ; 
•For  God  in  ways  they  have  not  known 
Will  lead  his  own. 

What  matter  what  the  path  may  be  ? 

The  end  is  clear  and  bright  to  view ; 
We  know  that  we  a  strength  shall  see, 

Whate'er  the  day  may  bring  to  do. 
We  see  the  end,  the  house  of  God, 
But  not  the  path  to  that  abode  ; 
For  God  in  ways  they  have  not  known 

Will  lead  his  own. 


pain.  355 

In  Cicero  and  Plato,  and  other  such  writers,  I 
meet  with  many  things  acutely  said,  and  things 
that  excite  a  certain  warmth  of  emotion,  but  in 
none  of  them  do  I  find  these  words  :  "  Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  labor,  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest."  —  St.  Augustine. 

Worldly  hopes  are  not  living,  but  lying  hopes  ; 
they  die  often  before  us,  and  we  live  to  bury 
them,  and  see  our  own  folly  and  infelicity  in 
trusting  to  them ;  but  at  the  utmost,  they  die 
with  us  when  we  die,  and  can  accompany  us  no 
farther.  But  the  lively  hope,  which  is  the  Chris- 
tian's portion,  answers  expectation  to  the  full, 
and  much  beyond  it,  and  deceives  no  way  but  in 
that  happy  way  of  far  exceeding  it. 

A  living  hope,  living  in  death  itself!  The 
world  dares  say  no  more  for  its  device,  than 
Dum  spiror  spero ;  but  the  children  of  God  can 
add,  by  virtue  of  this  living  hope,  Dum  ex  spiro 
spero.  —  Archbishop  Leighton,  from  "  Aids  to 
Reflection" 


356     THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

A  part  of  the  day  I  was  able  to  spend  in  read- 
ing another  sermon  of  Tholuck's,  in  the  German, 
—  a  sermon  preached  at  the  beginning  of  a  new 
year. 

SERMON. 

BY  A.  THOLUCK. 

We  stand  at  the  beginning  of  a  new  division 
of  life.  Would  that  we  did  not  need  such  epochs ! 
Happy  is  the  youth,  happy  the  man,  to  whom  such 
periods  are  not  necessary  to  recall  him  to  himself, 
who,  while  the  stream  of  his  life  rushes  by, 
stands  upon  the  shore,  and,  with  thoughtful  med- 
itation, keeps  his  glance  fixed  upon  the  flowing 
wave.  But  it  is  not  so  with  us  ;  the  waves  come, 
the  waves  go,  and  often  we  know  not  of  them. 
Therefore  must  every  one  make  fresh  starting- 
points  in  his  life,  even  in  his  inner  life.  In  what 
spot  of  your  heart  do  you  trace  the  beginning  of 
this  new  period  of  your  existence  ?  Do  you  glow 
with  holy  zeal,  like  the  combatant,  who  sees  be- 
fore him  the  course  he  is  to  run  through, — like 
the  warrior  at  the  moment  the  battle  is  to  begin  ? 
I  can  easily  see  this  is  the  case  with  many  of  you. 
At  least  it  is  the  case  with  reference  to  the  plant- 
ing of  that  fruit  which  the  world  will  some  time 
demand  of  you.  And  even  this  is  to  be  praised, 
for  in  many  cases  the  fruit  which  the  world  de- 


pain.  357 

mands  is  no  other  than  that  which  God  will 
some  time  ask  of  you.  But,  beloved,  there  are 
also  fruits  which  the  world  does  not  ask  of  you, 
and  concerning  which  you  will  be  questioned 
only  at  the  day  of  judgment.  The  Apostle  says  : 
"  It  is  a  very  small  thing  that  I  should  be  judged 
of  you  or  of  man's  judgment,  yea,  I  judge  not 
mine  own  self;  he  that  judgeth  me  is  the  Lord." 
Many  of  the  fruits  that  the  world  demands  of 
you  will  pass  away  when  the  world  passes  away. 
Are  you  determined  to  bring  forth  fruit  that 
shall  remain,  —  remain  through  all  eternity  ?  Do 
you  enter  upon  this  new  portion  of  your  life  with 
an  earnest  determination  to  cultivate  the  fruits  of 
the  spirit  and  of  righteousness  that  are  of  worth 
in  the  sight  of  God  ? 

Let  us  animate  ourselves  to  this  resolution  with 
the  words  of  the  Lord  (John  xv.  1  - 16) :  — 

"  I  am  the  true  vine,  and  my  Father  is  the  hus- 
bandman. Every  branch  in  me  that  beareth  not 
fruit,  he  taketh  away ;  and  every  branch  that 
beareth  fruit,  he  purgeth  it  that  it  may  bring 
forth  more  fruit.  Now  ye  are  clean  through  the 
word  which  I  have  spoken  to  you. 

"  Abide  in  me,  and  I  in  you.  As  the  branch 
cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself,  except  it  abide  in  the 
vine,  no  more  can  ye,  except  ye  abide  in  me.  I 
am  the  vine,  ye  are  the  branches :  he  that  abid- 
eth  in  me,  and  I  in  him,  the  same  bringeth  forth 


358  THE   SEVENTH   STORMY  SUNDAY. 

much  fruit ;  for  without  me  ye  can  do  nothing. 
If  a  man  abide  not  in  me,  he  is  cast  forth  as  a 
branch  and  is  withered ;  and  men  gather  them, 
and  cast  them  into  the  lire,  and  they  are  burned. 

"  If  ye  abide  in  me  and  my  words  abide  in  you, 
ye  shall  ask  what  ye  will,  and  it  shall  be  done 
unto  you.  Herein  is  my  Father  glorified,  that  ye 
bear  much  fruit ;  so  shall  ye  be  my  disciples. 

"  As  the  Father  hath  loved  me,  so  have  I  loved 
you ;  continue  ye  in  my  love.  If  ye  keep  my 
commandments,  ye  shall  abide  in  my  love  ;  even 
as  I  have  kept  my  Father's  commandments,  and 
abide  in  his  love. 

"  These  things  have  I  spoken  unto  you,  that  my 
joy  might  remain  in  you,  and  that  your  joy  might 
be  full. 

"  This  is  my  commandment,  that  ye  love  one 
another,  as  I  have  loved  you.  Greater  love  hath 
no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for 
his  friends.  Ye  are  my  friends,  if  ye  do  whatso- 
ever I  command  you. 

"  Henceforth  I  call  you  not  servants ;  for  the 
servant  knoweth  not  what  his  Lord  doeth ;  but  I 
have  called  you  friends ;  for  all  things  that  I  have 
heard  of  my  Father  I  have  made  known  unto 
you.  Ye  have  not  chosen  me,  but  I  have  chosen 
you,  and  ordained  you,  that  ye  should  go  and 
bring  forth  fruit,  and  that  your  fruit  should  re- 
main ;  that  whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  of  the  Father 
in  my  name,  he  may  give  it  you." 


pain.  359 

Let  us  occupy  ourselves  to-day  with  these 
words  of  the  Lord,  — "  that  we  are  ordained  to 
bring  forth  fruit,  that  shall  remain."  And  we 
will  first  consider  what  such  an  admonition  re- 
quires of  us,  and,  secondly,  what  help  we  have  in 
obeying  its  request. 

Life  is  a  field  fit  for  sowing,  the  little  human 
heart  is  a  large  seed-chamber,  and  eternity  the 
day  of  harvest.  Look,  my  friends,  into  the  con- 
fused bustle  of  life,  how  men  plough  and  sow  and 
labor,  how  the  fruit  grows  and  increases  beneath 
their  hands !  0  tell  me,  how  much  of  the  fruit 
that  all  men  produce  is  that  fruit  that  will  abide, 
—  abide  when  the  world  passes  away  ? 

Dear  brothers,  tell  me  how  much  fruit  will  re- 
main of  your  seed,  which  you  have  strewn,  when 
the  world  passes  away  ?  And  yet,  you  have  only 
fulfilled  the  destiny  of  your  life,  according  to  the 
measure  in  which  you  have  sowed  such  seed.  So 
grandly,  so  sublimely,  has  our  Lord  traced  out 
for  us  the  destiny  of  life  when  he  says,  "  I  have 
ordained  you,  that  ye  should  bring  forth  fruit." 
Again,  "  Herein  is  my  Father  glorified,  that  ye 
bear  much  fruit."  Sluggish,  earthly  spirits,  do 
you  understand  this  ?  For  this  lofty  aim  has  your 
Heavenly  Father  created  you,  since  Christ  has 
chosen  and  ordained  you  in  his  kingdom,  for  the 
high  end,  that  you  bear  fruit  that  shall  remain. 
If  this  bearing  of  fruit  that  shall  abide,  is  in- 


360  THE   SEVENTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

deed  the  whole  aim  of  life  and  of  Christianity, 
0  tell  me,  do  you  not  hold  it  as  a  necessary  re- 
quirement in  the  life  of  every  Christian,  that  he 
should  preserve  one  quiet  hour  of  every  evening 
when  he  may  ask  himself  what  fruit  he  has 
brought  forth  for  eternity  that  day  ?  And  if  each 
day  does  not  own  such  a  quiet  hour,  ought  not  at 
least  each  great  division  of  life  to  present  one  ? 

And  what  is  this  bearing  of  fruit  ?  The  Scrip- 
tures speak  of  a  double  fruit  of  the  Christian ;  — 
of  a  fruit  within,  which  is  called  the  fruit  of  the 
spirit  and  of  righteousness ;  of  an  outer  fruit, 
of  souls  won  to  the  kingdom  of  God ;  as  when  the 
Apostle  says,  that  he  would  have  gone  to  the  Ro- 
mans, "  that  he  might  have  some  fruit  in  them 
also,  even  as  among  other  Gentiles."  What  this 
fruit-bearing  is,  the  Lord  himself  shows  in  the 
passage  we  are  considering,  when  he  describes  it 
in  the  words,  "  If  ye  keep  my  commandments  "  ; 
and  again  he  explains  what  it  is,  when  he  says, 
"  Continue  ye  in  my  love  " ;  and,  "  This  is  my 
commandment,  that  ye  love  one  another,  as  I 
have  loved  you."  I  have  wished  to  present  to 
you  the  greatness  of  the  Lord's  requirements,  and 
when  I  offer  you  this  explanation,  you  think,  per- 
haps, that  his  demands  are  limited.  For  to  con- 
tinue in  his  love,  and  to  love  one  another,  —  if  it 
depends  upon  this  only,  you  say,  —  who  can  fail  ? 
O  holy,  sublime  word,  love !     How  men  drag  thee 


PAIN.  361 

to  the  dust,  how  they  imprison  thy  infinity  in  nar- 
row limits  !  Only,  merely,  to  love  Jesus  and  our 
brethren  !  As  easily  can  you  say,  only  to  be  for 
ever  damned  or  for  ever  blessed.  That  this  is  not 
a  little  thing,  that  everything  is  expressed  by  it, 
you  ought  to  perceive,  since  it  is  written,  "  Love 
is  the  fulfilment  of  the  law,"  and  since  the 
Lord  here  portrays  the  keeping  of  his  command- 
ments as  the  manifestation  of  love.  Those  fruits 
of  the  spirit,  as  Paul  recounts  them,  love,  joy, 
peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith, 
meekness,  temperance,  —  are  they  not,  all,  the 
fruits  of  the  heart  that  dwells  in  the  love  of  Jesus  ? 
And,  again,  the  fruits  that  were  gathered  for  the 
kingdom  of  God  from  a  world  that  had  been  lost 
without  Christ,  what  else  has  gathered  them,  but 
the  love  that,  after  the  example  of  Jesus,  seeks 
for  that  which  is  lost  ?  Would  you  behold  a  tree 
in  the  garden  of  God,  rich  with  all  the  fruits  of 
righteousness,  which  shine  golden  in  the  rays  of 
the  sun  of  mercy,  look  upon  Paul.  Would  you 
have  an  idea  of  the  fruits  with  which  his  inner 
man  is  adorned  before  God,  learn  from  the  mouth 
of  a  man  who  speaks  only  the  truth :  "I  there- 
fore so  run,  not  as  uncertainly ;  so  fight  I,  not  as 
one  that  beateth  the  air ;  but  I  keep  under  my 
body,  and  bring  it  into  subjection,  lest  that  by 
any  means,  when  I  have  preached  to  others,  I  my- 
self should  be  a  castaway."     Would  you  behold 

31 


3G2  THE    SEVENTH    STORMY   SUNDAY. 

the  fruit  which  he  gathered  in  the  world  for  the 
granaries  of  his  Master,  learn  it,  when  he  says, 
"  From  Jerusalem,  and  round  about  Illyricum,  I 
have  fully  preached  the  gospel  of  Christ,"  and 
when  he  is  able  to  speak  of  "  those  things  that 
are  without,  that  which  cometh  upon  me  daily, 
the  care  of  all  the  churches.  Who  is  weak,  and 
I  am  not  weak  ?  who  is  offended,  and  I  burn 
not  ?  *  And  what  is  the  water  of  life,  that  streams 
through  this  fruit-laden  tree,  from  the  root  to  the 
branches  ?  "  For  though  I  preach  the  gospel,"  he 
cries,  "  I  have  nothing  to  glory  of ;  for  necessity 
is  laid  upon  me ;  yea,  woe  is  unto  me  if  I  preach 
not  the  gospel "  ;  for  the  "  love  of  Christ,"  as  he 
elsewhere  says,  "  constraineth  me."  To  bring 
forth  fruits  from  within  and  without,  which  shall 
remain,,  and  to  love  Jesus  and  our  brethren,  is, 
truly,  one  and  the  same  thing. 

But  a  question  presses  upon  us  here,  a  weighty 
question.  Is  the  fruit  which  we  have  here  men- 
tioned indeed  the  only  fruit  that  shall  abide  when 
the  world  passes  away,  of  what  use  then,  you  ask, 
are  the  occupations  of  our  daily  life  ?  Shall  we 
not  let  them  stand  aside  for  those  who  serve 
the  gods  of  this  world,  and,  that  we  may  save 
our  own  souls,  flee  ourselves  to  the  solitude  of 
monastic  cells?  Here  we  touch  upon  a  point, 
that  shows  why  all  you  hear  in  this  holy  place 
leaves  you  frequently  so  cold.     Here  is  preached 


pain.  363 

to  you  a  love  towards  Jesus  and  the  immortal 
souls  of  your  brethren,  and  when  you  go  out  from 
here,  there  waits  for  each  one  the  toil  and  sweat 
of  a  calling,  which,  as  it  appears,  brings  forth 
only  fruits  which  will  pass  away.  You  see  nt> 
living  connection  between  the  demands  of  the 
church  and  the  daily  duty  of  your  life.  High  as 
the  church-tower  rises  above  the  tumult  of  life, 
above  your  houses  and  homes,  as  high  stands  the 
church  with  its  preaching  above  your  daily  occu- 
pations. You  look  up  to  it,  but  it  remains  to  you 
a  strange  land  ;  high  as  the  heavens,  it  enters 
not  your  homes,  your  cottages,  your  workshops, 
or  parlors.  Brothers  !  the  profession  and  the 
calling  should  not  stand  near  the  kingdom  of  God, 
but  in  it.  If  it  only  brings  forth  fruits  that  will 
pass  away,  when  the  world  passes  away,  it  is  your 
fault.  Let  us  begin  with  the  lowest  pursuits  of 
life  !  Tell  me,  is  it  not  necessary  to  preserve  the 
temple  of  God,  in  which  dwells  the  spirit  that 
is  to  bring  forth  fruit  that  shall  abide  ?  And 
those  members  of  the  body  which  are  most  in  dis- 
honor, are  they  not  as  necessary  for  the  support 
of  life  as  the  most  honorable  ?  No  calling  which 
is  necessary  for  the  support  of  social  life  is  in  it- 
self ignoble.  Is  only  love  towards  God  and  your 
brethren  the  source  whence  flows  that  fidelity 
with  which  you  perform  the  lowest '  conoerns  of 
life,  then  do  you  bring  forth  fruit  which  shall  re-~ 


364      THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

« 

main.  There  remains  the  inner  fruit,  for  your 
fidelity  has  preserved  in  your  own  heart  the  puri- 
ty of  your  love,  and  you  will  take  this  enhanced 
and  purified  love  away  into  eternity ;  there  re- 
mains the  outer  fruit,  for  you  have  so  labored, 
that  your  earthly  condition  shows  in  what  way 
souls  can  be  drawn  towards  heaven.  Is  this  true 
of  the  lower  pursuits  of  life,  how  much  more  of 
those  that  demand  knowledge  !  Has  love  to  Jesus 
and  your  brethren  driven  you  to  seek  truth  with 
fidelity  and  divine  earnestness  in  any  sphere  of 
knowledge,  then  the  fruit  of  such  fidelity  abides 
in  your  own  soul.  It  remains  also  in  the  world. 
For  wherever  beams  of  truth  press  into  the  com- 
mon life  of  men,  then  it  must  serve  to  glorify  him 
who  is  King  in  the  land  of  truth.  Since  all  truth 
has  come  forth  from  God,  so  must  all  truth,  of 
whatever  nature  it  may  be,  lead  back  to  him.  If 
your  pursuits  in  life  are  apart  from  your  life  in 
the  kingdom  of  God,  so  that  they  only  bring  forth 
fruit  that  passes  away,  then  it  is  your  own  fault, 
because  all  that  you  do  and  that  you  pursue,  you 
do  not  through  love  of  the  Son  of  God  and  your 
brethren. 

Arise,  then ;  you  know  now  what  it  is  to  bear 
fruit,  and  you  have  heard  the  saying  of  the  Lord 
that  you  are  ordained  to  bring  forth  just  such  fruit. 
Then,  brethren,  begin  with  this  new  term  of  your 
life  upon  a  new  season,  when  you  will  ask  your- 


pain.  365 

self  daily,  with  an  earnestness  quite  different,  from 
any  you  have  shown  before,  whether  the  fruit 
which  shall  abide  increases  in  you.  Beautiful 
Christian  words  dwell  upon  your  lips  ;  well,  these 
are  the  leaves  of  the  tree  of  life.  Holy  feelings 
throb  at  times  through  your  heart ;  these  are  its 
blossoms.  But  there  will  come  a  day  when  the 
Lord  of  the  vineyard  will  ask  not  for  the  leaves, 
nor  for  the  flowers,  but  for  the  fruit.  Therefore, 
are  you  in  earnest  with  regard  to  your  salvation, 
let  there  not  be  wanting,  in  a  single  day  of  your 
life,  one  quiet  hour  of  the  morning  or  evening  in 
which  you  may  ask  yourself  concerning  the  growth 
of  this  fruit.  Manifold  are  the  relations  of  your 
life.  You  are  a  workman  or  scholar,  father  or 
child,  son  or  daughter,  master  or  servant;  all 
these  relations  are  branches  of  the  tree  of  life. 
Do  the  fruits  of  righteousness  hang  on  all  these 
branches  ?  Is  it  seen  of- all  men,  in  all  these  rela- 
tions, that  you  are  a  disciple  of  Christ  ?  Friends, 
who  can  in  the  quiet  hour  question  himself  ear- 
nestly concerning  the  fruits  of  his  faith,  without 
casting  down  his  eyes  in  shame,  and  needing 
some  great,  strong  consolation  to  save  him  from 
throwing  away  all  hope  ? 

But  is  the  demand  great  that  springs  from 
these  words  of  the  Lord,  yet  is  that  which  sup- 
ports us  in  fulfilling  it  also  great.  For  has  the 
disciple  of  the  Lord,  as  we  read  in  this  passage, 

31* 


866  THE   SEVENTH   STORMY   SUNDAY. 

once  become  "a  branch  of  the  vine"  of  Jesus, 
then  also  is  the  Father  the  husbandman.  When 
you  were  without  Christ  in  the  world,  0  how 
often  must  it  have  happened  to  you,  that,  in  that 
hour  when  on  your  right  stood  earnest  duty,  on 
the  left  alluring  pleasure,  you  clutched  your  own 
breast,  to  find  there  the  strength  for  victory, — 
and  in  vain !  The  disciples  of  Christ  seek  not 
after  such  strength  in  vain.  Is  the  saying  of 
Christ  true,  "Without  me  you  can  do  nothing?  " 
So  also  are  the  words  of  Paul  true,  "  I  can  do  all 
things  through  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me." 
There  is  a  mysterious  connection  between  the 
glorified  Redeemer  and  you,  which  you  cannot 
have  learnt  from  experience,  but  may  believe 
through  faith  in  the  word  of  God !  There  is  a 
mysterious  connection  with  the  glorified  Redeem- 
er, through  which,  as  the  juice  of  the  grape  swells 
through  the  vine,  strength  rises  for  the  Christian 
for  every  good  work,  —  for  everything  for  which 
the  demand  comes  to  us  from  without.  For  to 
do  everything  is  not  allotted  to  all,  —  only  to  do 
that  work  for  which  each  finds  a  demand  in  the 
relations  of  his  life,  only  what  can  be  looked  upon 
as  the  duty  enjoined  by  the  Father.  But  all  this 
you  are  able  to  do,  are  you  only  planted  in  Jesus, 
and  become  one  with  him,  and  have  drawn  near 
to  him.  With  all  these  strong  expressions  do 
the  Scriptures  portray  the  connection  between  the 


pain.  367 

spiritual  branch  and  the  spiritual  vine.  And  how 
is  such  a  close  connection  formed?  The  band 
which  thus  draws  together  the  branch  which  is 
upon  earth,  and  the  vine  which  is  in  heaven,  is^ 
called  faith.  This  is  the  first  consolation  which 
our  text  offers  us. 

But  there  is  a  second,  that  we  have  a  heavenly 
husbandman  who  cares  for  the  branches.  When 
you  were  without  Christ  in  the  world,  you  were 
a  wild  tree  in  the  field,  whose  leaves  were  torn  by 
every  storm,  whom  no  kind  hand  watered  when 
it  was  dry,  whose  branches  no  gentle  hand  bound 
up  when  they  were  broken.  Since  you  have  be- 
lieved in  Christ,  you  have  been  transplanted  to  a 
favoring  soil,  you  have  found  a  gardener  who, 
when  the  storms  rise,  protects  you,  who,  when  it 
is  dry,  gives  you  water,  who  binds  up  the  broken 
branches.  Since  you  are  a  branch  of  the  vine  of 
Christ,  the  Heavenly  Father  who  planted  this  vine 
is  also  your  husbandman,  who  purge th  his  branch- 
es that  they  may  bring  forth  more  fruit.  To  purge 
the  vine,  that  is  to  prune  the  shoots  that  deprive 
the  branches  of  the  vine  of  their  strength.  My 
beloved,  since  we  have  become  branches  of  the 
vine  of  Christ,  whatever  withdraws  strength  from 
the  vine,  these  are  the  offshoots,  they  are  those 
ungodly  inclinations  that  have  ho  connection  with 
the  kingdom  of  God,  and  by  them  that  strength 
is   destroyed  which   should  bring  forth  goodly 


368      THE  SEVENTH  STORMY  SUNDAY. 

fruit.  The  more  any  one  is  satisfied  to  stand  in 
so  loose  a  connection  with  Christ,  by  which,  it  is 
true,  he  brings  forth  leaves  and  flowers,  but  no 
fruit,  so  many  more  offshoots  remain  in  him. 
There  prevails  in  oiir  time  a  Christianity  in  which 
there  is  frequent  talk  of  Christly  doctrine  and 
Christian  feelings,  without  earnest  self-examina- 
tion, without  purging  of  the  offshoots  which  spring 
from  the  nature  of  man.  There  prevails  a  Chris- 
tianity which  preaches  finely  how  noble  Christ  is, 
but  says  not  how  pitiful  is  man,  so  that  it  never 
reaches  a  repentance  daily  renewed,  nor  a  faith 
each  day  fought  for  anew.  Such  a  Christianity 
will  not  stand  at  the  day  of  judgment.  The 
Lord  declares  in  the  parable  we  have  quoted,  that 
the  branches  which  bring  forth  no  fruit  shall  be 
hewn  down,  and  shall  be  burned.  Observe,  he 
says  this  of  the  branches,  even  of  those  who  al- 
ready stand  in  a  certain  relationship  with  him, 
who  can  say  in  a  certain  sense  they  are  Christians, 
who  can  point  to  the  leaves  and  blossoms  which 
the  spirit  of  Christ  -has  produced,  but  no  fruits. 
O,  is  it  not  pitiful  that  it  is  possible  to  be  a 
branch  of  the  vine,  and  that  the  branch  may 
be  hewn  down  ?  Ah,  how  deceived  will  they 
find  themselves,  who  allow  themselves  to  be  satis- 
fied with  their  leaves  and  blossoms,  when  an  ear- 
nest voice  shall  ask  them,  Have  I  not  ordained 
you  to  bring  forth  fruit,  —  fruit  which  shall  abide  ? 


pain.  369 

Yet,  beloved,  the  beginning  of  even  such  a  con- 
nection with  Christ  brings  its  blessings  with  it. 
You  who  have  made  this  beginning,  if  you  do 
not  yourselves  bring  the  knife  to  such  offshoots, 
lo !  you  stand  beneath  a  heavenly  husbandman, 
who  from  heaven  reaches  down  a  hand  towards 
them.  In  the  life  of  every  Christian  there  are 
hours  when  the  pruning-knife  cuts,  where  the 
heart  clings  to  Christ,  deep  into  those  bonds  of  a 
love  that  is  not  consecrated  to  God,  —  into  every 
inclination  of  the  soul  that  is  not  newly  born. 
0,  he  who  has  not  sought  for  a  fervor  higher 
than  himself  lives  to  see  with  astonishment  how 
in  the  course  of  his  life  God's  pruning-knife 
touches  him  just  in  that  spot  where  he  is  most 
sensitive,  where  his  connection  with  the  world  is 
the  strongest!  There  is  —  yes,  brethren,  there 
is  truly  in  the  life  of  every  Christian  a  mercy  of 
discipline  from  God.  Yes,  the  words  are  true 
which  the  Scriptures  tell  us  :  "  Whom  the  Lord 
loveth,  he  chasteneth ;  if  ye  endure  chastening, 
God  dealeth  with  you  as  with  sons.,, 

If  everything  came  to  you 

Exactly  as  you  willed, 

And  God  took  nothing  from  you, 

No  burden  gave  to  bear, 

How  would  it  at  youi*  dying, 

O  children,  be  with  you  1 

Your  hearts  would  sink  in  anguish, 

So  dear  the  world  to  you ! 


370  THE   SEVENTH   STOKMY  SUNDAY. 

-  If  one  after  another  » 

Your  dearest  ties  are  loosed, 
Then  joyous  can  you  wander 
Towards  heaven  through  the  grave. 
Your  trembling  then  is  over, 
While  hope  inspires  your  souls  ; 
This  truth,  so  often  spoken, 
Is  ne'er  too  often  told  ! 

Now,  dear  friends,  lie  still  when  you  observe 
that  God's  pruning-knife  is  cutting  away  your  off- 
shoots, even  though  the  heart  bleed.  "  That 
they  may  bear  more  fruit,"  —  for  this  reason  he 
purgeth  his  branches,  and  without  the  fruits  of 
goodness  you  cannot  enter  into  his  kingdom.  My 
brethren,  he  would  prepare  you  all  fully  for 
this,  by  your  sorrowful  as  well  as  by  your  happy 
hours. 


THE  EIGHTH   SUNDAY. 


SUNSHINE. 


u  Thy  sun  shall  no  more  go  down ;  neither  shall  thy  moon 
withdraw  itself;  for  the  Lord  shall  be  thine  everlasting  light,  and 
the  days  of  thy  mourning  shall  be  ended."  —  Isaiah  lx.  20. 


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